


fortune teller said I'd be free (and that's the day you came to me)

by happylikeafool



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Time Traveler's Wife Fusion, F/F, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-03-06 13:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18852379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happylikeafool/pseuds/happylikeafool
Summary: It doesn’t take Emma long to learn that being a Time Traveler is not exactly easy. It's unpredictable and peculiar and exhausting and requires an inordinate amount of running. Yes, she spends most of her first twenty eight years running - running and running and running, and so very very lonely. And then a boy shows up on her doorstep. A boy named Henry, the son she gave away to give his best chance. A boy she brings home to a strange little town, to a woman with dark eyes that flicker so rapidly from surprise, to wonder, to anger, that it gives Emma whiplash. She is only confused further when she lands in a future where those same dark eyes look at her with unimaginable softness. A future where Regina is wearing a wedding dress. A future Emma has no time to truly comprehend before she is being dragged back to the present, left with nothing but questions.Could she really get everything she ever wanted? A family? Love? Is any of that even possible for a Time Traveler - forher?(An AU loosely based on the Time Traveler's Wife)





	1. Part I (i)

**Part I**

_History is like gravity_   
_It holds you down away from me_   
_You and me, we've both got sins_   
_And I don't care about where you've been_   
_Don't be sad and don't explain_   
_This is where we start again_   
_Start again_

\- Come to Me, Goo Goo Dolls

* * *

 

 

Time travel.

****

Impossible.

****

Unless you're Emma Swan that is.

****

Then _impossible_ becomes _possible_.

****

But also _unpredictable, peculiar, exhausting_ , _frustrating_ , and a whole slew of other words with mostly negative connotations.

****

Emma is six the first time she time travels. She is six and in the backseat of her social worker’s car, being driven to her third new home that year, when her hands start to fade. She makes a sound, a quiet but alarmed little gasp, her brow scrunching up into a frown as she twists her fading hands forward and backwards in confusion.

****

“Everything okay?” her social worker asks from the front seat, her eyes meeting Emma’s through the rear view mirror.

****

Emma doesn't get the chance to answer though. The rest of her body follows her hands, disappearing from the backseat of the car and appearing somewhere else entirely - some _time_ else entirely.

****

She finds herself standing in a hallway facing an open door. Someone is humming in the room beyond the opening - it’s a soft lullaby she'd completely forgotten. This is the first home. The one with the mommy and daddy who were supposed to keep her but didn't. Her lower lip trembles, confused and scared and also a little angry because it's worse to suddenly remember the lullaby than it was to forget it. Worse to remember that she'd _almost_ had a real family once.

****

She takes a step forward and then another, until she can see into the room, see the first mother in a rocking chair holding a bundle wrapped in a white blanket with purple ribbon trim that she recognizes as _hers_.

****

The first mother looks up then and just when their eyes meet, just when the humming and rocking stop and the baby wails in protest, just when the first mother’s mouth opens to shout something, Emma is fading again, disappearing like she'd never been there at all.

****

She reappears on the same road she'd been on moments ago but she's not in the car anymore, she's just standing in the middle of the road. Up ahead a car - her social worker’s car - is flipped upside down and engulfed in orange and yellow flames that dance angrily against the night sky.

****

“ _Emma_ , come here,” a voice calls urgently to her.

****

Emma startles, her head turning sharply from the flickering flames to the source of the voice - a blonde woman standing on the shoulder.

****

“Get out of the middle of the road,” the blonde woman urges, motioning somewhat frantically with her hand for Emma to come towards her.

****

Emma is frozen with uncertainty but then she hears the rumbling of a car approaching and her feet move quickly, one step and then another, until she's standing an arms reach away from the woman.

****

“ _Here_ ,” the blonde woman says softly, wrapping a blanket around Emma's bare shoulders.

****

Emma hadn't actually realized that her clothes had vanished when she did, too stunned to take much in, but she shivers now, gratefully pulling the blanket tighter around herself.

****

There is something tucked under the woman's arm - a white blanket with purple ribbon trim that Emma recognizes with a frown. “ _Hey_ ,” she says, eyes narrowing, “That's _mine_.”

****

The woman just smiles, pulling the blanket out from under her arm and holding it out for Emma to take.

****

Emma doesn't ask how the woman has gotten this blanket - a blanket that was packed with the rest of her things when she left the last house only hours ago - she just tugs the blanket to her chest, tucking it up under her chin and breathing in its scent with a soft sigh.

****

“I know this all really confusing and kinda scary, kid, but it's going to be okay,” the blonde woman tells her.

****

Emma says nothing. Her superpower doesn't detect a lie in those words but there's something about the woman's eyes, something that looks like sadness, that makes her nervous.

****

One side of the woman's mouth tugs upwards into a sympathetic smile that is clearly meant to be reassuring. She rakes a hand through her blonde hair. “We don't have much time, the cops will be here soon. They'll take care of you. But, listen, you can't tell them about the time travelling, okay?”

****

Emma's eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in suspicion. _Time travel? Was that what happened? But how did this lady know that?_

****

These questions are not spoken out loud but the woman seems to know what Emma is thinking anyway because she says, “That's what it's called, what happened to you just now. Time travel. And I know that because I'm a time traveler too.”

****

Emma still feels wary but there's something about this stranger that she can't help but trust. “Really?” she asks quietly.

****

“Yes,” the woman bobs her head in the affirmative.

****

Sirens wail in the distance and the woman's eyes close briefly and she sighs deeply. When she blinks them back open, Emma notices for the first time that they're green like her own.

****

“Just don't tell them, got it?” she repeats her previous instruction.

****

“Why?”

****

“It's just that they won't believe you, kid. Easier if you say nothing.”

****

“ _Oh_ ,” is all that comes out in response to that.

****

The sirens are closer now and the blonde woman smiles. “That's my cue to go.”

****

“Go?” Emma frowns - not wanting this stranger to leave her but not sure why.

****

“Sorry, kid. I'd stay if I could.” The woman holds up her hand to show Emma - a hand that is fading.

****

Emma's eyes widen - it's somehow different seeing the same thing that had happened to her, happen to someone else. “Woah.”

****

The woman laughs. “Catch you around,” she says with wink before she fades completely and Emma is left standing there alone as the police cars and fire trucks screech to halt feet away from the blazing car.

****

Emma doesn't understand until later that that blonde woman was _her_.

****

Emma doesn't understand until much _much_ later - when she's breaking into a social worker’s car parked at a gas station while six year old Emma is brought to a washroom inside - where exactly she’d gotten her blanket from.

****

xxxxxx

****

Not telling the policemen who find her shivering on the side of road about the time traveling is easy enough - they don't even really ask her any questions, just bring her to the hospital to get checked over.

****

Not telling _anyone, ever,_ is much more difficult.

****

She gets labelled a runner first.

****

She gets labelled a liar when she tries to explain.

****

_Troubled_ , she hears a social worker say once, and it makes her want to scream, makes her want to hit something until it breaks, until the knot of hurt twisted in her chest no longer feels like it's strangling her.

****

She just wants someone, _anyone_ , to _listen_ to her, to _believe_ her. The only thing she wants _more_ is a family, people who _love_ her. But the older she gets, the more she hears _liar_ or _troubled_ or _difficult_ or _bad_ or _problem_ or any of the other words that all mean the same thing - that she isn't good enough for anyone - the less and less possible any of those wishes feels.

****

So she runs, for real. Runs and runs and sometimes vanishes to another time, only to return and run some more.

****

She's nearly seventeen when she tries to steal an already stolen car and meets Neal. Neal who _believes_ her when she says she’s a time traveler even before she vanishes right in front of him. No one has ever believed her before and she loves him for it.

****

Emma doesn’t understand until later that that's a terrible reason to love someone.

****

Emma doesn’t understand until much _much_ later that relief at being believed and love actually feel quite different.

****

Neal turns out to be the liar. A liar who sets her up for a crime she didn't really commit and leaves her to be carted off to jail while he vanishes like _he's_ the time traveler.

****

She spends her first weeks in jail petrified about what exactly will happen when she time travels, when she disappears and reappears from a place where disappearing is strictly not allowed  - _when_ not _if_ because she's never gone more than a month without it happening. But one month passes, then two, and she throws up her breakfast and her lunch everyday for two weeks before she realizes that she has a much bigger problem than worrying about time travelling.

****

Two lines on a plastic stick confirm it.

****

She doesn't time travel once during the pregnancy and she's not sure exactly why that is but every morning and every night she whispers _thank you_ . Somehow, impossibly, the baby growing inside her is keeping her grounded here in this time - somehow this baby is protecting her even though _she_ is supposed to be the one protecting _him_ . She just doesn't know _how_ though. She's in jail. A single teenage mother. A time traveler. She has nothing to offer a baby.

****

So she gives him away. Gives him what will be his best chance. And doesn't let herself think about the possibility that it won't be - that he'll somehow turn out just like her, that she's doomed him to a life filled with unhappiness.

****

She gets released from jail three weeks after he's born, three weeks after she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She time travels for the first time in nearly ten months that very day.

****

She wonders if she'll visit him. Wonders if she'll get the chance to actually _know_ that he's okay, that his future is a good one. But it's a pointless wish, like every other one she’s ever made - just another wish that won't come true. Because, even if it could happen, how would she recognize him if it did? She doesn't even know his name.

****

The time travelling gets bad over the next years. She spends more time out of the present than in it. It makes settling anywhere impossible. Makes loneliness grow and grow until it feels embedded in her bones, a permanent part of her makeup. Makes her hopeless about the existence of any future that will be different than _this_.

****

She scrapes by on odd jobs that don’t require reliability, drinks more than she should, and tries to convince herself that this is a good enough life, that old dreams of _love_ and _family_ are just that, the dreams of a child - not something she desperately still craves.

****

xxxxxx

****

It’s her twenty fourth birthday when someone knocks on the door of her shoebox sized apartment. She isn't expecting anyone - she doesn't even _know_ anyone here. She ignores the knocking at first, just takes another swig of what is her fourth beer of the night. The knocking persists though, it's relentless, and, finally, with a grumble of annoyance, she pushes herself up off her ratty old couch.

****

When she swings her apartment door open, she freezes. It's _her_ on the other side - green eyes and blonde hair and a face that somehow looks older and younger all at once - mostly because there are no dark circles under _this_ Emma's eyes. It's odd because, for all of her time travelling, _this_ is the first time she's seen herself since that very first time. It's as if time isn't quite capable of holding two of her very often - she wonders what makes today a special occasion.

****

“You going to let me in?” the future her asks when silence has dragged on for a solid minute at least.

****

Emma’s eyes narrow at that. “What if I say no?”

****

The other Emma just looks like she wants to laugh. “Are you going to?”

****

Emma scowls but she shakes her head and holds the door open - she's far too curious about this future version of herself to turn her away.

****

The older Emma's nose scrunches up as she steps into the apartment. “I forgot what a shit-hole this place was.”

****

Emma doesn't protest that description - there's no point when it's so clearly true. She takes a swig of her beer and follows herself the six steps to the living room couch.

****

Her older self drops down onto the couch but Emma remains standing. She takes a few more sips of her beer before she asks, “So what-cha doing here?”

****

Green eyes appraise her with what is clearly judgement, or maybe pity. “You're drunk.”

****

It's not an answer to her question and Emma frowns. She isn't _really_ drunk, not as drunk as she was planning on being by the end of the night, anyway. She scowls, “So what if I am? It's my birthday. I'm _celebrating_.” As if to prove her point, she chugs the rest of her beer and heads for the fridge to grab another. “You want one?” she calls over her shoulder.

****

“No.”

****

“Aw come on. Live a little. If it's my birthday, it's your birthday too, right?”

****

“It actually isn't. It's spring in my time.” There's something almost wistful about her words.

****

Emma considers that as she closes the fridge door with her hip, twisting the bottle cap off and leaving it on the counter, before heading the few steps back towards the couch. “This is weird,” she decides.

****

Older Emma shakes her head with a wry sort of laugh. “Trust me, it's weirder for me. I remember both sides of this conversation.”

****

“Something to look forward to then,” Emma laughs, dropping down unceremoniously on the couch beside her counterpart. “So you still haven't said what you're doing here.”

****

“You know we have no control over where we travel.”

****

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's not what I meant. Why did you come _here_ to my… or your… our, maybe?” All Emma is doing is confusing herself and she shakes her head.  “Ugh, _this_ ,” she motions between them, “is messing with my head.” She pauses a beat before trying again, “ _Anyway_ , why did you come to _this_ apartment where you knew _I_ would be?”

****

There's a flicker of hesitation. “I came here because it’s your birthday and you shouldn’t be alone.”

****

Emma laughs like that's funny, like she hadn’t wished just hours earlier that she wouldn’t have to be alone today. She takes long gulps of her beer. “It’s not like being alone on my birthday is something new.” She means to sound unaffected but she knows she hasn't succeeded.

****

Older Emma watches her with an expression that is so knowing and so sympathetic that it makes Emma want to scream, makes her want to throw her beer just to hear the glass shatter, just to change the emotion in those eyes to something that would bother her less.

****

“It's not always going to be like this.” The words are so careful, so soft.

****

Emma swallows thickly. She hates how much she wants that to be true, hates the way that hope blossoms in her chest at even the possibility. She’s afraid to ask for details - and somehow knows she’s not going to get them anyway. She gulps nearly the rest of her beer trying to stop the rising tide of emotion.

****

“You need to stop drinking,” her older self says.

****

Emma frowns at that. “Why?”

****

“Because it makes the time travelling so much worse. You need to drink less. And get an actual job. One that makes you enough money so that you don't have to live in this shitty apartment anymore.”

****

“Wait. Is this why you've come here? To tell me to get my shit together?” Emma spits out and she's not sure why she's angry about it but she _is_ \- she can feel the anger threatening to take over. She wants a fight.

****

The older Emma doesn't rise to the bait though, she just says seriously, “Yes.”

****

The anger is still there and Emma can't stop herself from shouting, “Why the fuck should I listen to you?!”

****

“Because I am you.” There is no anger there to match Emma's, just even, serious words.

****

It’s a non-answer that doesn't appease Emma in the slightest. “So where were you before then? Hmm? Where were you with the good advice when I was getting kicked out of foster homes? Or falling for an asshole who was going to ruin my life?”

****

Older Emma's eyes are sympathetic again. She doesn't bother answering - they both know she hasn't had any choice in where she's been. Instead she says, “Your life - _our_ life - isn't ruined.”

****

Emma rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say.”

****

She gets a sigh in reply to that, a sigh and a hand raking through long blonde hair. “Listen, I get it, things suck right now.”

****

“ _Right now_?” Emma interrupts with a scoff.

****

There’s another sigh. “Okay, yeah, you’re right, things have pretty much _always_ been awful. Just one shitty thing after the next. But you're not a kid anymore. Or a teenager. You're an adult. And things can be better, you just have to _want_ to help yourself. You have to try a little. I _need_ you to do that.”

****

Emma wants to keep fighting, wants to push back and disagree, wants to squash this absurd flicker of hope in her chest before it catches. Hope has never left her anything but disappointed. “What does _better_ even mean?”

****

“You'll see,” is all the response she gets.

****

“Easy for you to say,” Emma tries to scoff but it doesn't come out nearly as flippant as she'd meant it to and she feels herself begin to tremble.

****

Older Emma doesn’t answer, she just leans over and pulls Emma into a hug that she allows without any protest.

****

Emma doesn't remember the last time someone hugged her. The last time someone _comforted_ her. It's so foreign and unfamiliar and she can't stop the tears that spring into her eyes as she clings more tightly.

****

“It's going to turn out better than you could ever imagine, I promise.”

****

Those words are murmured softly in her ear and then her older self vanishes, leaving Emma all alone once more.

****

xxxxxx

****

It's four years later, and her birthday again, the next time someone knocks on her door. It’s a different door, one that belongs to a nicer apartment, and this knock is different too, softer, hesitant almost. When she opens the door this time, it's not herself she's staring at but a boy with shaggy brown hair, looking up at her with hopeful brown eyes.

****

_I'm your son_.

****

Three words and her whole world tilts off its axis. Here he is. Here is the baby she'd given away for his best chance, half grown and here to tell her he hadn't really gotten it.

****

His name is Henry and he is not happy. He's not happy and Emma thinks the weight of that realization will crush her. He was _supposed_ to be happy. He was supposed to be _loved_.

****

She brings him home because she's not sure what else she's supposed to do. Home to a tiny town with a ridiculous name in Maine of all places. Home to a house big enough to fit at least a dozen of Emma’s apartments, where a door swings open to reveal a woman with short brown hair and a grey dress, whose face absolutely lights up with relief as she rushes down the steps to engulf Henry in a desperate sort of hug.

****

And Emma watches them and thinks that maybe he _is_ loved after all.

****

He doesn't seem to see it the same way though. He pulls back from the woman’s arms and snaps harsh words that steal the light from the her face. He rushes past her and into the house and then those dark eyes are looking up, looking at Emma _._

****

“You're Henry’s birth mother?” she says and it's with a strange mixture of wonder and shock.

****

Emma feels impossibly awkward standing there under those appraising eyes and she does a weird short of half wave and utters a ridiculous, “Hi?”

****

“Emma?” The name slips past Henry’s mother’s lips with that same short of half awed tone, her eyes regaining some of the light Henry’s harsh words had stolen.

****

Emma’s brow furrows, confused and suddenly wary. “How… How do you know my name?”

****

The woman whose name Emma still doesn't know goes still, her shoulders stiffening. It feels like a whole minute before she offers an explanation of, “Adoption papers,” and then it's like she slips a mask in place, her jaw setting more firmly and her eyes no longer holding any hint of what she might be thinking. “How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you've ever tasted?”

****

Emma accepts the explanation because she has no reason to doubt it, even though her internal lie detector is going haywire. This day has been impossibly bizarre and she does not have the energy to wonder too much about anything. “Got anything stronger?”

****

xxxxxx

****

Henry’s mother’s name is Regina and she sits across from Emma in the study ( _of course_ this ridiculously large house has a study) and watches her with such a curious expression - there’s something confusingly hopeful there and something knowing, almost. It feels like maybe she can see right through Emma and Emma gulps her drink to mask just how uncomfortable that possibility makes her.

****

Even with that, their conversation is not nearly as unpleasant as Emma was sure it would be. At least it isn’t until Emma brings up Henry’s fairytale theory and something changes - Regina goes rigid, her eyes flashing anger before the mask from before falls back into place. Her expression is stony as she suggests in a way that is clearly less suggestion and more demand that Emma leave Storybrooke and not return.

****

Emma is ushered out of the house so fast after that that she thinks she might have gotten whiplash. As the door shuts firmly behind her, she swears she hears a crash from the other side - the sound of something shattering. She hesitates a whole minute before she descends the steps and heads for her car.

****

She’s almost at the town line when she feels a familiar tug. “No, no, no. Fuck,” she mutters as the car spirals out of control and she vanishes.   

****

xxxxx

****

Emma appears in a bedroom she’s never been in before. It’s been a while since she’s travelled to a _new_ place and she’s momentarily stunned, eyes wide as she takes in the soft grey walls, the large bed, the decorative pillows, the reading glasses resting on top of a book whose title she can’t quite make out on the nightstand. The room somehow manages to feel both polished and lived in but nothing she sees is really helping her sort out where (or when) she is.  

****

“ _Here_.”

****

A voice coming from behind her startles her and she whips around, hands immediately wrapping around her body as she tries to cover herself, a furious blush creeping into her cheeks at having been caught in someone’s bedroom _naked_ . Any words she might have tried to stammer out as way of explanation or apology die on her lips, her eyes widening in surprise as she realizes that the _someone_ is _Regina_ in a _wedding dress_. She is holding out a robe for Emma to take. Emma is so stunned, she can do nothing but stare, her hands wrapping tighter around herself as if that will somehow cover her better.   

****

“Take the robe, Emma,” Regina smirks far too knowingly.

****

Emma reaches warily for the garment, quickly pulling it on and doing up the belt, her eyes never leaving Regina’s face. She finds nothing but amusement and affection in Regina’s brown eyes, an expression that is nothing at all like the cool gaze Emma was subjected to less than fifteen minutes ago. “Thanks,” she mumbles, still wary.

****

“Of course.” Regina smiles, it’s filled with that same amused affection. “I was expecting you.”

****

“You were?” Emma’s brow crinkles.

****

Regina doesn’t get a chance to answer that though. The door to bedroom bursts open and a frantic looking brunette rushes in.

****

“Regina! Emma’s gon-” the frantic brunette stops when she sees Emma standing there in the robe. “ _Emma_ ,” she hisses out what is clearly meant to be chastisement. “You aren’t supposed to see the bride before the ceremony! We talked about this!”

****

_Wait_ . Emma struggles to process what is being said here. Is _she_ marrying Regina. She couldn’t have understood that correctly, could she have?

****

Regina chuckles. “ _Mary Margaret_ ,” she says the woman’s name in an odd way that seems purposely pointed but for a reason that Emma can’t sort out.

****

Mary Margaret looks from Regina to Emma and then back and forth once more. There’s a flickering of understanding in her eyes and she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “This isn’t _our_ Emma, is it?”

****

“Emma is always _our_ Emma. She's the same person,” Regina objects to the phrasing.

****

“ _Regina_ ,” Mary Margaret sighs in exasperation.  

****

“This Emma _is_ a tad younger than the one who agreed to marry me though.” Regina smirks, somehow impossibly amused by this situation.

****

“And the correctly aged Emma?” Mary Margaret prods.

****

“She’ll be back. Isn’t she always?” Regina shrugs, completely unbothered, as if her bride being missing on their wedding day is not a problem in the least.

****

Mary Margaret lets out a little huff of frustration. “And what am I supposed to tell all of the guests waiting outside?”

****

Regina’s lips tug into a smirk again, Mary Margaret’s frustration clearly only fueling her amusement. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You were rather insistent about being our wedding planner. These are the kind of foibles wedding planners have to contend with, aren’t they?”

****

Mary Margaret’s eyes narrow, but she just shakes her head, grumbling something unintelligible under her breath, and exiting the room without another word, leaving Emma alone with Regina once more.  

****

Emma bites her lip, her eyes drawn away from the door Mary Margaret has just retreated out of and back over to Regina. She can’t help but look her up and down, really taking in the ivory wedding dress now, how it clings to her just right, accentuating her curves, and how the neckline plunges low enough to offer a view of cleavage that makes Emma's mouth go a little dry. Emma forces her eyes upwards when she realizes she’s staring and she’s met with those still amused brown eyes. She swallows thickly, a nearly audible gulp. “So… uhhh… you and me, huh? We’re… getting married?”       

   

“It does appear, so,” Regina says, smoothing her dress with long fingers that Emma’s eyes follow.  

****

Emma runs a hand through her hair, forcing her eyes back upwards to Regina’s face once more. This feels unbelievable, impossible, and she can’t sort out what to say.

****

“You’re surprised,” Regina comments. It’s not a question.

****

“It’s just…” Emma shrugs, not sure how to elaborate.

****

“That you’ve just come from meeting me and it didn’t go all that smoothly?” Regina offers with a quirked eyebrow.

****

Emma can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out of her, it’s a nervous release of energy more than anything. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

****

“You told me that this is where you came after you left the manor that night. And I know that that particular introduction… didn’t go well.” Regina is clearly choosing her words very carefully. There's something rueful about the smile she offers before continuing, “I’m afraid I can’t promise that any other interaction will go especially well for awhile either.”

****

“ _Great_ ,” Emma can’t stop herself from grumbling.

****

Regina laughs. “You just need to be patient. You’ll see, it will turn out okay.”

****

“I’m just supposed to blindly believe that? That everything will be okay?” Emma demands, irritation bubbling up in her chest. She's not exactly surprised by the suddenness of her mood shift - this is all _a lot_.

****

“Of course not, Emma.” Regina says. There is no irritation in her voice to match Emma's, the words are, instead, softer than anything else she's said.

****

The softness is too much. First the son she gave up thinking she would never see him again showing up on her doorstep with wild theories about curses and Evil Queens. And now _this_ . A future where she is going to be someone’s _wife_. A future where someone will look at her with soft eyes and speak in an even softer voice.

****

_You did wish not to be alone_ , she reminds herself, thinking of the wish she made blowing out her birthday candle. But wishes don’t come true, not in her life. And everything about this seems impossible. How can it be possible that somewhere in her not so distant future she will be marrying the woman who adopted her son? How can it be possible that somewhere in her future she’s going to get the only thing she’s ever truly wanted - _a family_?

****

“Hey,” Regina murmurs, her eyes suddenly tinged with worry, her hand reaching out towards Emma, like it’s an instinct, her fingers brushing gently against her forearm. “I think you should sit. You just got really pale.”  

****

Emma wants to protest, but she’s suddenly feeling a little dizzy, as the weight of the events of this day catch up to her. She finds herself nodding dumbly and stumbling backwards, finding the edge of the bed, and dropping down.

****

Regina is in front of her instantly, somehow managing to crouch with ease in that wedding dress, like she's perfectly comfortable in elaborate dresses. One hand settles on Emma’s knee and the other reaches up, tucking stray blonde hair behind Emma’s ear with tenderness, her fingers resting against Emma’s cheek. “Alright?”

****

Emma is frozen, mesmerized by the care in the warm brown eyes staring up at her and she doesn’t pull away from the touch, she doesn't even consider it. “Yeah. Sorry,” she mumbles.

****

Regina smiles at her and it’s filled with such raw affection. “There’s no need to apologize, darling.”

****

That term of endearment seems to just slip out effortlessly and there’s a sudden pang of longing in Emma’s chest. No one has ever spoken to her with such fondness. She has to remind herself that this fondness isn’t really for _her_. Not for Emma Swan, age 28.

****

“Sorry, that darling just slipped out. Habit,” Regina says. Her thumb strokes Emma’s cheek gently, her eyes searching Emma's. “This is a lot to process, I know.”

****

“Maybe a little,” Emma admits a little sheepishly. She swallows. “But… you said it will be okay?” She hates the hint of vulnerability that’s so plainly there in her tone. Hates that the possibility of getting everything she’s ever wanted is being dangled in front of her like this. Hates that she _wants_ it so badly. It's the same way she felt the night an older version of herself sat beside her on a ratty old couch and told her things would turn out better than she could imagine. Was _this_ what she meant?

****

“It will,” Regina assures with a kind of fierce certainty.

****

Emma searches the brown eyes for a lie she doesn’t find. There’s so many more things she wants to ask, so many more things she wants to know, but she feels a familiar tug and knows she won’t be here long enough for that. If she were to look away from Regina’s eyes, Emma is sure she would see her hands fading, her hands are always the first to go, but she just can't stop staring.

****

Regina must know it’s happening too, because she squeezes Emma’s knee once, a new smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, as she whispers, “You’ll see.”

****

And then Emma is gone.        


	2. Part I (ii)

The clicking of heels against tile the next morning has Emma’s heart racing even before Regina appears. She leans against the bars of the jail cell the Sheriff insisted she spend the night in no matter how many times she protested that the car crash had absolutely  _ nothing _ to do with alcohol. She can’t help but stare when Regina comes into view, can’t help but feel something close to wonder as she studies her - will this woman  _ really _ be her wife someday? 

****

This Regina doesn’t look at her with anything close to the fondness of her older counterpart though. Her eyes narrow in Emma’s direction and she snaps, her voice hard, “What are you staring at?” 

****

“Sorry,” Emma apologizes immediately but the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth refuses to go away.

****

Regina’s glare intensifies, seemingly put off by that smile. “What are you still doing here? I thought you were going back to Boston last night.”

****

“It seems Miss Swan couldn’t handle the alcohol you plied her with,” the Sheriff is the one to supply the answer.

****

“I told you the accident wasn’t because of the alcohol,” Emma protests, irritated - not being believed has always been a sore point for her.

****

“I don’t have time to listen to the two of you squabble,” Regina snaps, ending the argument between the sheriff and Emma before it can truly begin. “Henry is missing again.”     

****

Whatever Henry might think about Regina being evil, all Emma sees in her eyes right now is worry. Someone who was evil wouldn’t be so concerned about their child, would they? More importantly, Emma wouldn't  _ marry _ someone evil, would she?

****

Emma convinces Regina and Graham to take her with them to help find Henry. Regina doesn’t seem pleased about her tagging along, she’s more bregudging than anything, but she doesn’t say no and it feels a little like a win, even as Regina snaps, “You better not get in the way.”

****

_ Patience  _ Emma reminds herself as she follows Regina out of the building. She's supposed to be patient.

****

xxxxxx

****

Emma, it turns out, isn't much good at patience. She tries, she really does. She shows up on Regina’s doorstep and tells her all about the wish she made on her birthday. She doesn't say  _ it came true _ or  _ we’re going to be a family someday _ , she just extends that confession like an olive branch, lets herself be vulnerable in hopes that this can be a  _ beginning _ , and Regina  _ crushes _ her for it. 

****

So, she can’t  _ really _ be blamed for taking a chainsaw to a tree after that, can she?

****

Fighting with Regina is an odd sort of mixture of infuriating and invigorating and Emma keeps waiting and waiting and waiting for it to turn into something  _ different _ . And each time it doesn’t, she thinks  _ patience  _ but never really has any.

****

There's times where it feels  _ almost. _ Regina at the mines with her lips so close that Emma could lean forward a fraction of an inch and they'd be kissing. Regina when Emma saves her from the fire at Town Hall, eyes tinged with such odd longing before they harden again. Regina sometimes staring at Emma when she thinks Emma doesn't notice in this strange wistful way that feels like it means something. But Regina is a puzzle that Emma has no real hope of solving, not when the only piece she has is a picture of a future that a lot of the time still feels  _ impossible.  _

****

Emma only time travels a handful of times in her first few months in Storybrooke - it is never to the future or to Regina and it leaves her frustrated. She’s always leaned towards hatred of her time travelling ability, its unpredictability and her incapability to control it has caused problem after problem for her, but now she’d give just about anything for another glimpse of a future where Regina looks at her with soft eyes and so much fondness that Emma can barely stand it - if only just to prove to herself that she hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

****

It's been nearly four months since she arrived in town, when Henry witnesses her time travelling. 

****

They’re at his castle when she feels the familiar tug. She has just enough time to tell Henry that it will be okay, that this is normal, and that she will be back, before she vanishes. The last thing she sees before she is gone is his eyes widen, his mouth hang open. 

****

When she returns, it’s hours later, the sun long since set. Henry is gone but her clothes are folded neatly in a pile, the walkie talkie sitting atop it.

****

She dresses quickly, perching on the edge of the castle, her feet dangling off the side, and brings the walkie talkie to her mouth. She hesitates before she presses the button down. “Hey, kid,” is all she says into the speaker.

****

It’s a minute before a reply comes, static crackling through the walkie talkie.  _ “You’re back?” _

****

“Yep.” Emma swings her feet, kicking at the air. 

****

_ “Are you still at the castle?” _

****

“Yep.” She reuses her previous reply.

****

_ “Stay there, I’m coming.” _

****

“Henry...” Emma starts but then stops. She should tell him not to leave the house. Regina is not going to like this one bit. But she knows any attempt to tell him not come will be half-hearted at best and, so, she doesn’t even bother trying. 

****

_ “I’m coming.” _ He repeats and then the walkie talkie goes silent and Emma is left to wonder what exactly it is he’s thinking.  

****

She’s not sure what she expects, confusion or maybe hurt that she hadn’t told him, but certainly not the vehement anger she is greeted with as he stomps his way towards her.

****

Henry stops at the base of the play structure, hard eyes glaring up at her, his hands balled into fists. “I don’t understand. If you have  _ magic _ , why didn’t you believe me about the curse?” 

“It isn’t magic, Henry,” Emma says carefully, unsure how to deal with a Henry who is angry at  _ her _ .

****

“Then what it it?” He demands, his eyes no less hard. 

****

Emma sighs. She maybe should have told him before but it’s a secret she’s always kept closely guarded and that is a habit that’s hard to shake. “It’s time travel,” she admits now. 

****

Whatever Henry is expecting her to say, it certainly is not  _ that  _ if the way his mouth hangs open is any indication. The hardness in his eyes softens a fraction, replaced with a flicker of wonder. “What?”

****

“I’m a time traveller.” Emma shrugs, holding up her hands in a sort of half-hearted  _ tada _ motion, as if to say  _ surprise _ .

****

Henry’s brow knits into a frown and Emma can practically  _ see  _ the wheels in his head turning. “Why didn’t you  _ tell _ me,” he finally asks, and the anger slips further, replaced by hurt, which really is worse.

****

“I’m sorry, Henry.” Emma sighs softly. She really is sorry to have hurt him. “It’s just… it’s hard to explain, you know? And I don’t usually tell people. They don’t tend to believe me unless they see the disappearing act, anyway.” It’s only part truth. Henry who believes in fairytales and curses probably would have believed Emma about the time travel, she knows that. But she’d still hesitated anytime she’d considered telling him. The complete truth was that telling Henry felt a little too much like telling Regina, like if anyone in town knew, the more likely Regina would be to confront her about it, and every time she thinks about talking to Regina about time travel, about what specifically Emma has seen time travelling, Emma’s palms get a little sweaty.  

****

Henry’s frown is a little more curious now, like he’s thinking. He climbs up to sit beside Emma, his feet dangling beside hers. “Time travel is  _ so _ cool.” he grins over at her.

****

“Yeah?” Emma tilts her head.

****

“Yeah.” Henry grins wider, nudging her side.

****

Emma smiles too, taking a breath and letting herself relax. “I’m glad you think so.”

****

“So, where did you go?” Henry asks.

****

“Just the past.” Emma shrugs. “Nothing interesting.” She tends to visit a lot of the same places over and over again. Today’s visit really had been uninteresting, just a park near the foster home she’d stayed in the longest.  

****

“Can you go anywhere you want? Any time?”  Henry asks next, his eyes shining now with excitement.    

****

“No,” Emma shakes her head. “It doesn’t work like that. I don’t have any control. It just sort of… happens.”

****

“Oh.” Henry nods, contemplative a moment, but then he shrugs, grinning again. “It’s still cool.”

****

Emma smiles at him. Truthfully it’s more frustrating than anything but she’s happy to let him think it’s cool. 

****

“What’s the coolest place you’ve ever been?” He wonders, excitement still shining in his eyes.

****

“The future,” Emma says before she can catch herself. She bites her lip and wishes she could take it back. 

****

“Oh! What did you see? Did we break the curse?” Henry is practically vibrating with energy beside her.

****

“Henry…” Emma eyes him seriously and she hates the way his face falls a fraction. “Is it possible you’re wrong about your mom being the Evil Queen?”

****

Henry frowns. “ _ What  _ did you see?”

****

Emma shrugs, not willing to tell him about Regina in a wedding dress. “It doesn’t really matter. It just… it makes it hard to believe your mom is the Evil Queen, no matter how much she seems hell bent on acting like she is sometimes.” Emma might be willing to believe in curses and magic - if time travel is possible, then who knows what else is - but she just doesn’t understand how she could end up with the Evil Queen. She doesn’t understand how someone who is supposed to be some evil queen could look at her with such softness, with such love. It doesn’t make any sense.

****

“You’re really not going to tell me what you saw?” Henry pouts in the way that usually would make Emma cave but today she holds strong.

****

“It’s maybe better if I don’t say.” She’s still afraid that she might have imagined the whole thing. Is afraid that if she says it out loud it will be like jinxing it. She’s not sure why she wants that future so badly, but there’s no doubt that she does. “But could you maybe try and consider a possibility where she’s not the evil one?” 

****

Henry’s mouth twists. When he speaks, it’s barely more than a whisper. “I really think it’s her.”

****

“I know.” Emma offers him a lopsided smile. “Just think about it, please?”

****

“Fine.” Henry concedes, returning her lopsided smile with one of his own. 

****

Emma rubs his shoulder and then she sighs. “I should really get you home before your mom notices your missing and kills me.”

****

“See,  _ evil _ ,” Henry whispers under his breath.

****

“Or concerned mom,” Emma shoots back, nudging him to stand.

****

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Henry grumbles, letting himself be lead to Emma’s Bug and driven back to the manor. 

****

Emma watches him slip in the backdoor and wonders for what might be the millionth time since that first night if someday this big white house will really be her home too. 

****

xxxxxx

****

It’s a week later when Emma time travels again. She’s surprised only because she had sort of gotten used to longer gaps between disappearing acts.

****

She appears on the edge of a meadow at the top of a hill that she does not recognize. Wherever she is, it’s night time, stars shimmering over head and the moon the only real light to be had. Oddly, she finds a set of clothing behind a rock to her right. She doesn’t debate that much, just slips on the pants and the loose fitting shirt, and moves through the meadow down the hill to a barn. She might as well explore, or at least find a place to lie low until her time here, wherever here is, is over.  That's usually the best plan.

****

Inside the barn, Emma finds a girl curled up on the ground, cradling an unmoving body in her arms. She’s bent over so that her dark hair is obscuring her face but just by the way her shoulders are shaking, Emma is sure she’s crying. She freezes, uncertain and hesitant of what she should do here. “Uhh… do you need help?”

****

The girl’s head jerks up and Emma barely contains a gasp.   

****

It’s Regina. 

****

Regina who can’t be more than eighteen with red puffy eyes filled with so much pain. 

****

“Emma?” Regina’s voice cracks as the name slips past her lips. 

****

“Hey,” Emma says carefully. Her eyes slide to the prone form in Regina’s arms, and back to Regina’s face. She’s not sure what’s happened here, but, whatever it is, it isn’t good. Her mind whirls as she tries to process what she’s seeing, tries to process that this young Regina  _ knows _ her name.

****

For the longest time they just stare and stare and stare at each other, and then there’s a flash of anger in Regina’s eyes, and she’s loosening her hold on the body in her arms, and springing to her feet. “Why didn’t you warn me?” she demands, voice shaking with anger and pain as she takes two steps towards Emma. “Why didn’t you tell me that mother was going to crush his heart?”

****

Wait.  _ What? Crush his heart? _ Regina’s mother  _ killed _ this man? How did you even crush a heart? Emma’s eyes dart back to the prone body on the ground. Her mouth opening and closing as she tries to figure out the right thing to say here.

****

“I could have saved him!” Regina yells, new tears glistening in eyes that are angry and desperate all at once. “You should have told me not to trust that insipid child. Why wouldn’t you warn me not to tell her Daniel and I were going to run away? This is your fault!”

****

“I...I…” Emma stammers, eyes wide, heart hammering almost painfully against her ribcage. She’s at a complete loss. She doesn’t even know where to begin here. Clearly some older version of her has been here before but she doesn't know how to explain that  _ she  _ hasn't, that she doesn't know at all what Regina is talking about.

****

“I thought you were my friend,” Regina bites out, it starts harsh but ends with trembling hands and a hitch of her breath that makes it clear that she is hurt more than anything.  

****

“Regina…” Emma says, the name a whispered plea, but for what, Emma doesn’t know. If there’s an Emma who is Regina’s friend it isn’t  _ her _ , not yet anyway. But she hates the pain in Regina’s eyes, wants desperately to make it go away. She takes a step forward - to do what exactly, she’s not sure. Hug Regina, maybe?

****

“No,” Regina snaps loudly. She raises her left hand, palm out, as if prepared to shove at Emma if she gets closer. “Go away. I don’t want to see you  _ ever  _ again. You just show up here over and over and over and lie to me. And I’m done with it.”

****

“Regina…” Emma tries again, the name still a plea. 

****

“Daniel is dead and I’m going to have to marry the king and it’s  _ your  _ fault. You said I would get to be happy. That I would get to be  _ free _ . You’re a  _ liar _ , Emma. So, go away.” Regina’s jaw clenches. There’s something different in her eyes now, something like stubborn determination. 

****

_ Marry a king? _ But she’s just a child. Emma’s stomach twists in knots and she has to swallow down a sudden lump in her throat. 

****

“Regina, I’m sorry,” Emma whispers and, even though she’s never been here before, has no context to really understand what she’s apologizing for, she  _ is _ sorry. 

****

“You should be.” Regina grits out, that stubborn determination still flashing through her eyes. “Now go away. I told you, I don’t want to see you again.”

****

Emma wants to protest, wants to somehow explain the unexplainable, but, as if Regina’s words were some kind of command, her right hand begins to fade.

****

The last thing she sees before she disappears completely is a single new tear roll it’s way down Regina’s cheek. 

****

xxxxxx

****

Emma spends no time gathering her thoughts, no time reflecting on where she's just been or what she's just seen. She just re-dresses hurriedly and storms across town.

****

“What the hell, Regina,” Emma hisses, barging  into Regina’s office at town hall without so much as a knock.

****

From behind her desk, Regina looks up slowly from her computer. “To what do I owe this interruption, Sheriff?” she asks smoothly.

****

Emma’s green eyes are ablaze. “You  _ knew _ ,” she accuses. “And you didn't say anything.”

****

Regina tilts her head, quirking an eyebrow. “What exactly are you accusing me of knowing here, Miss Swan? You're going to have to be clearer.”

****

“Two words. Time Traveller.”

****

Regina blinks rapidly, the only indication that Emma’s words have affected her. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” she says dismissively.

****

“I’m a time traveller, Regina. And you know it.” Emma wastes no time in shooting back. 

****

“Have you hit your head, Miss Swan? Should I take you to the hospital?”

****

Emma isn’t having any of it though. “Don’t even pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You  _ knew _ the night we met, when I brought Henry home.”

****

Regina’s lips purse, conflict maring an expression that she is clearly trying to keep neutral, but she says nothing.

****

Emma frowns, not sure what to make of Regina’s silence. “You're not even going to try and deny it?” She runs a hand through her hair. “So  _ what _ ? Henry's right? You're some Evil Queen who's cursed everyone here?” She sounds a little desperate.

****

Regina folds her hands carefully on top of the desk, leaning forward, challenging, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn't?”

****

“I….” Emma starts but then stops. She opens and closes her mouth, once, twice, a third time, and then her shoulders slump in defeat at not being able to answer with conviction. She wants to believe in Regina - in the woman with the soft eyes from the future - but she's not sure she can, not without some kind of explanation. “I don't know.”

****

Regina can’t seem to mask the hurt that flickers across her face. “Then I'm not sure it matters what I say, Miss Swan,” she says flatly.

****

Emma’s eyes flash, her anger suddenly re-invigorated. “Emma. It's  _ Emma _ . God. How long have you even known me? It was so clearly a while. You said we were  _ friends _ . And you can't even call me by my name now?”

****

Regina swallows thickly. “It's been a very long time since I've  _ known _ you.” It’s quiet, so quiet.

Emma frowns, her brow scrunching up and her eyes searching Regina’s for  _ something _ \- she doesn't like the conclusion she's coming to. “That wasn't the last time you saw me was it? Like… I know you said you didn't want to see me again. But it's not like I can control it. I came back, yeah?”

****

It seems to take Regina a minute to understand what Emma is saying, to understand what specific moment she is referring to, but Emma sees the moment it clicks, sees the pain in Regina’s eyes that makes her look just like the younger version of herself that Emma had just met. “I saw you again… once.”

****

Emma’s mouth hangs open, sadness flickering across her face. “ _ Once _ ? Oh shit. That's… I'm sorry.” She doesn't know much but she does know that the version of Regina she'd encountered in that barn had been young and in pain and surely hadn't actually meant what she said - how hurt must she have been when a person she thought was her friend never appeared again?

****

Regina doesn’t react, she keeps her voice flat. “As you said, you have no control over the time travelling. And… you'd prepared me.”

****

That makes Emma frown again, confused now. “Prepared you?”

****

Regina swallows. “I always knew there would be  long periods where we wouldn't see each other. You told me as much, even though you refused to say much else.”

****

“Oh…” Emma is at a loss, this was not exactly the direction she'd expected this conversation to go. She stares at Regina wanting to ask a million questions but unable to figure out how to form any of them.

****

“I think you should go Miss-” Regina stops before the  _ Swan _ can slip past her lips, replacing it with a whispered, “Emma.”

 

“What? No.” Emma is completely puzzled by the request and not at all prepared to leave. She hasn't gotten a single real answer.

****

Regina eyes her carefully. “I'm sure you can appreciate that this isn't easy for me?” Emma wants to protest but Regina continues before she can interrupt. “I'd like some time. You can come over this afternoon. We can talk then. I’ll tell Henry to go over to the Zimmerman’s after school. We'll have plenty of time.”

****

Emma still wants to protest but she hesitates. The future her had cared enough about Regina to prepare her for the periods they would be apart. The future Regina had stood in front of her in a wedding dress and looked at her with the most caring expression. Both those things meant  _ something _ . Mean maybe she owes it to the future versions of both of them to give  _ this _ Regina what she's asking for - at least for now. With a sigh she begrudgingly concedes, “Fine”. She moves to leave but then she stops. “You’ll tell me everything tonight?” She needs that confirmation, needs to know she'll get real answers - she _needs_ answers. 

****

“Yes, everything,” Regina agrees, her tone resigned and her eyes filled with what looks like sorrow.


	3. Part I (iii)

Emma arrives at the manor promptly at four with a bottle of wine. It might be a little early for drinking but she has a feeling that alcohol is going to be required to make it through this conversation. She’s still reeling from the realization that Regina’s known exactly who she is from the first day she showed up here. Still reeling from the realization that Henry might be right, that Regina really might be some Evil Queen, even if the possibility of that still feels so wrong. Whatever the truth is, she owes Regina - Regina from the past who’d called her _friend_ and Regina from the future who’d stood in a wedding dress and said that everything would be okay - the opportunity to explain.

****

A future version of herself had once said that everything would turn out better than she could imagine and, as she rings the doorbell, Emma has to wonder if this is the specific moment she was talking about because she really has no clue how this is going to turn out to be anything but a disaster. She has half a mind to just run away and forget all about this but it's too late for that because the door is opening.

****

“I brought wine,” is the first thing she blurts out and she feels idiotic even when Regina gives her a half smile, seeming almost amused.

****

The house smells like apples and cinnamon and sugar and, when Regina leads her to the kitchen to open the bottle of wine, Emma eyes the baked tart on the cooling tray with interest. “What’s this?”

****

“A snack,” Regina says, and, seeming to see the way Emma is eyeing it eagerly, adds, “It needs to cool down.”

****

Emma tries not to look too disappointed. She takes the glass of wine Regina pours for her and rocks uncertainly on the balls of her feet. “Should we, uhhh, sit?”

****

Regina takes a sip of the wine she's poured for herself before motioning to the table.

****

Emma nods and takes a seat. It's less comfortable than the study - but maybe that's a good thing, this isn't likely to be a comfortable conversation and there's no point pretending it will be. She takes a sip of her wine and watches Regina carefully across the table, trying to decide if she should start the conversation or wait for Regina. After minutes of uncomfortable silence, she can't wait any longer. “So you knew who I was the night I showed up?”

****

“Yes,” Regina says carefully and doesn't elaborate.

****

“ _Regina_ ,” Emma sighs, a hint of frustration in her voice. “You said you'd tell me everything. This isn't going to work if you refuse to talk.”

****

Regina’s eyes flash anger. “I realize that, Miss Swan.”

****

“ _Emma_ ,” she corrects.

****

“Emma,” Regina repeats and her voice is suddenly so much softer, like Emma's name itself has drawn that softness from her. She watches Emma with the most confusing expression, like she maybe _knows_ her, like she can maybe see right through her. It's the same expression she'd had the first night they'd met Emma realizes, only now understanding why.

****

“So?” Emma drums her hands against the table top when she can't stand the silence or Regina’s expression any longer.

****

Regina sighs, like she's forgotten that this conversation actually has to go somewhere. “What would you like to know?”

****

Suddenly the one on the spot, all Emma can do is shrug. “I don't know? You said everything, yeah?”

****

“I did,” Regina agrees and she looks suddenly so very very weary. She stands and retrieves a leather bound book from a drawer in the kitchen island and brings it over to the table, setting it down in front of Emma before retaking her seat. “I thought you might want to see this.”

****

“What is it?” Emma asks, running her hand over the cover but not opening it.

****

The answer is matter of fact. “A record.”

****

“Of what?” Emma looks up to meet Regina’s eyes.

****

There’s a flicker of something there but it's gone too quickly for Emma to really grasp whether it is longing or hurt or something else entirely. “Of every time you ever visited me.”

****

Emma can’t help the way her eyes widen, can't help the, “ _Wow_ ,” that falls from her lips as she turns her attention to the leather bound diary and flips page after page, watches block letters and doodles turn to elegant cursive, and starts to grasp the full magnitude of this - starts to comprehend that the future her hadn't visited Regina once or twice but dozens upon dozens of times. “Wow,” she repeats because she can't sort out what else to say.

****

Regina doesn't say anything, just sits across from her and sips her wine, like she knows she should wait for Emma to say something that isn't just a single syllable, wait for Emma to get a handle on her thoughts.

****

Emma runs her hand over the second to last entry and her heart clenches, picturing the young heartbroken Regina she had encountered just hours ago.

****

_I was awful. I blamed her for Daniel and said I hoped to never see her again. She must hate me._

****

She looks up at Regina again - the imagine of her younger self in so much pain flashing through Emma’s mind. “This time,” she points at the entry, “The second to last one. That's where I went today.”

****

Regina swallows thickly, nodding her head once. “I'd deduced as much,” she says, confirming what Emma already sort of figured.

****

“Did your mother really kill that young man?” Emma asks.

****

“ _Daniel_ ,” Regina whispers the name like it hurts her to say it out loud. “Yes,” she answers Emma's question.

****

“I'm sorry,” is all Emma can think to say.

****

“Why are you sorry?” Regina appraises Emma with such intensity.

****

“Because I didn't stop it from happening.”

****

Regina’s eyes soften, she looks almost fond for a second, almost like the Regina from the future in a wedding dress, and it leaves Emma feeling a little unsettled. “I know what I screamed at you that night. But you couldn't have stopped it.”

****

“That's not true,” Emma can't help but protest - there's an entire diary filled with visits that suggest Emma had ample opportunity to provide a warning.

****

“I would not have wanted you to,” Regina clarifies and her expression switches to something fierce. “Everything that happened in the past led me here, brought me Henry, and I would not change a single thing if it meant he wouldn’t be here, if it meant I would not get to be his mother.”

****

That fierce protectiveness, the certainty and sheer love that emanates from those words, leaves Emma momentarily speechless. Henry might have been right about some things (Emma's still not sure exactly which things) but he'd definitely been wrong about the most important one - Regina _loves_ him, irrefutably. This is proof that giving him up really had been his best chance, that he’d gotten exactly what Emma had wanted him to have, and Emma is overwhelmed by it.

****

It takes a minute before Emma can think of anything else - can start to consider all the things that Henry might have been right about, all the things she needs answers to now. The question she comes to, the one that feels most pressing, isn't about any of those things at all though. “If you knew who I was that first night, why didn't you say anything?”

****

Regina seems just as surprised by the question and it takes her a second to answer, “Because you clearly did not know who I was.”

****

Emma frowns at that. “Did you think I wouldn't believe you if you told me?”

****

Regina hesitates before admitting, “I was _going_ to tell you.”

****

It’s not an answer and there's a hint of frustration in Emma's voice when she follows up quickly with, “Then why didn't you?”

****

“Because you told me about the curse.” Regina appears equally frustrated, like she can't sort out what exactly it is that Emma can't grasp. “A curse you were - _are_ \- here to break.” The way her expression goes rigid is the only indication that she understands exactly what she's just admitted.

****

Emma blinks rapidly at that. “So everything Henry thinks is true? Fairytales and magic and evil queens and curses?” She'd still sort of been hoping that it wouldn't be true - that Regina would have a logical explanation for her. It's maybe why she hadn't asked that question first, she hadn't been ready for the answer.

****

“In most regards,” Regina says carefully.

****

“That's… fuck.” Emma shakes her head. “I just… seriously what the fuck?”

****

“What an eloquent reaction.” Regina has the audacity to smirk.

****

“You're seriously gonna sit there and mock my reaction? You don’t think this could be a little hard to believe?” Emma protests.

****

“Which part exactly is hard to believe?” Regina asks.

****

“Uhh, magic?” Emma says like that should be obvious.

****

“You're a time traveler,” Regina says, unphased, like that's reason enough to believe in magic - and, okay, so maybe she's a little right.

****

“Yeah, but this is like…” Emma just shakes her head again, trying to absorb this all, trying to go through everything about Henry’s theory and absorb what it means that those things might be true. One fact pops up in her head and has her blurting out, “Is Mary Margaret really my mother?”

****

“Yes.”

****

“And you're really some evil queen?”

****

“ _The_ Evil Queen,” Regina clarifies, like that distinction is important.

****

“And you cursed everyone because you thought she was prettier than you?” Emma is just stating things now for no other reason than to state them, this one maybe makes the least sense of all though, and she can't stop herself from adding, “Which she definitely _isn't_ , so, like, I don't know who told you that or why you didn't just look in a mirror.”

****

Regina rolls her eyes and then looks genuinely offended. “I did not cast a dark curse because of vanity. That's insipid.” She pauses, takes a breath, her voice getting serious. “You saw what my mother did to Daniel. That was Snow’s fault. She ruined my life.”

****

“Well, shit,” Emma says because, really, what exactly is she supposed to say to that? Especially when her mind draws forth the image of a teenaged Regina saying she would have to marry the king. The king who would have been Emma's grandfather. She feels ill at that thought and she tries to shake it away. “Why are you even telling me all of this? Shouldn't you just be, like, denying it a lot?”

****

Regina sighs. “You've been to Enchanted Forest now. What's the point in continuing to lie if you aren't going to believe me?”

****

“Okay, fair point,” Emma concedes but she can't stop herself from rambling on, “You know, I still don't get why you didn't tell me. I mean maybe not about the curse, I guess, because that's kinda messed up. But that we knew each other. That I was your friend.”

****

There's a sudden flash of anger in Regina’s eyes then, her next words hard, “Because you betrayed me. You made me believe you were a bright spot in my future and instead you came here to destroy me.”

****

That makes Emma frown. “I don't think… that's not right?” The image she sees in her head now is Regina in a wedding dress with soft, fond, eyes. “It _can't_ be.”

****

“I'm the Evil Queen, Emma,” Regina says, and she doesn't sound angry anymore, just tired. “You are here to break my curse. In which way exactly am I supposed to believe this ends well for me?”

****

Emma doesn't get a chance to answer that - a voice from the kitchen entrance interrupts them.

****

“ _What_ ? _!_ ”

****

The look on Regina’s face is shear horror before she manages to mask it. “Henry. Why are you home?”

****

“Ava got sick,” Henry answers quickly in a distracted sort of way.

****

“Is she alright?” Regina asks before Henry can continue.

****

“Yeah,” Henry confirms but his eyes narrow, his expression hardening. “But stop trying to change the subject. I know what I just heard. I was _right_?”

****

“Henry, dear, I can explain,” Regina says even though the way she pales suggests she doesn't know exactly how.

****

Henry isn’t even listening to her though. His eyes scan the room and land on the apple tart resting on the cooling train. He moves towards it, pointing angrily, “What's this? Were you going to poison my mom?”

****

Emma jumps in then, “Henry, come on, that's just dessert.”

****

Henry’s angry eyes turn to her, something like betrayal and disbelief filtering into his expression. “You know she's the Evil Queen. Of course it's not _just_ dessert.”

****

“Take a breath kid, come sit down and we can talk about all of this. It's a lot, I know. I'm struggling to grasp any of it. I think we need more information though before we jump to any wild conclusions though, yeah?” Emma tells him.

****

“What?” His eyes are even wider now and the disbelief is mounting in his voice. “What is going on here? Did she brainwash you? You believe me about the curse but not about her being _evil_?”

****

“Henry,” Emma says and she doesn't mean for it to sound so patronizing but she hears how it comes out.

****

“No,” Henry says firmly, rejecting whatever other point she wants to make before she can even try to make it. He picks up the apple tart. “I don’t know what’s going on here but you need to see the truth.”

****

“Henry - no!” Regina tries to stop him but it's too late, he's already taking a bite of the tart Regina had baked to serve to Emma.

****

Emma’s heart sinks as Henry crumples to the floor. “What the fuck.”

****

xxxxxx

****

The next hour is nothing but franticness and worry.

****

They rush Henry to the hospital where he is hooked up to what feels like a million tubes and wires and smarmy Dr. Whale tells them he's not sure what to do. Henry is _dying_ and Emma wants to break something, wants to scream and scream and scream.

****

There are tears in Regina’s eyes as she stares at Henry, too pale and too small, lying in that hospital bed.

****

Emma sees red, she drags Regina to a supply closet and pushes her inside, slamming the door behind them. “What the _fuck_ , Regina?! You were gonna just confess a bunch of shit and then _kill_ me?”

****

“No,” Regina’s eyes widen, looking like she might actually be afraid of Emma. “It wasn't like that.”

****

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Emma spits out.

****

“I didn't think you'd take any of it well. I just needed an option. An out. A way to keep my curse intact and my son-” her voice cracks at the word son and she stops speaking, her face pale and her eyes filled with pain.

****

At the reminder of Henry on the other side of this supply room door, lying in a hospital bed, more anger bubbles up in Emma's chest. “If he dies, I'm going to kill you,” she threatens, not sure if that's a genuine threat or not but needing to say _something_ to express just how pissed off (and terrified) she is.

****

“Okay,” Regina says without a second of hesitation, as if that's a fate she would willingly accept.

****

That answer deflates Emma's anger and just leaves the terror behind. She shakes her head at Regina. “He's _not_ going to die. It's not… that's not how this goes.” There’s no way she would marry the person responsible for Henry's death, right? She clings to that like it's a certainty, like it's all the hope she needs. “It _can't_ happen,” she says, firmly, more for her own sake, before she fixes Regina with a determined look, “So what do we do?”

****

“ _We_?” The surprise in Regina’s voice is unmistakable.

****

“You want him to live as much as I do, don't you?” Emma pushes.

****

“Of course I do,” Regina snaps, angry at even the implication that she wouldn't.

****

This time Emma doesn't rise to the bait, doesn't snap back, she just eyes Regina fiercely, still just as determined. “So what do we do?”

****

It takes a second but slowly determination fills Regina’s eyes too. “I've got an idea.”

****

xxxxxx

****

The idea involves Emma fighting a dragon with a sword, which is, frankly, ridiculous. Every word of that sentence makes Emma shake her head. But she does it. She does it and she _succeeds_. She gets one full minute of exhilaration, of relief and triumph, before all her hope gets ripped away - stolen right from her grasp by Gold.

****

She wants another solution. Begs Regina with her eyes and then her voice to provide it but Regina just stands there with an expression filled with sorrow.

****

They are silent during the drive. Silent as they enter the building. And silent as they watch in horror as Henry’s heart monitor flatlines.

****

Emma has never felt grief like this before. She is positive that this ache in her chest will form a cavern that will swallow her whole.

****

She doesn’t even look over at Regina. Her previous death threats and anger washed away for now by the sea of sorrow in the pit of her stomach.

****

She sees nothing but the pale boy lying still, too still, and she takes wooden steps towards him. When she finally reaches the hospital bed looking down at him, her knees feel like jelly, like they might buckle at any moment.

****

She doesn't understand why this has happened. Doesn't understand how she can travel forwards and backwards through time but not prevent _this_ , not save the only person she's ever loved.

****

_Loved_. Past tense. She never even told him.

****

She trembles as she whispers, “I'm sorry.” And she's not sure if she's apologizing for not telling him or for not keeping him safe, for not preventing _this_. Both, maybe. Tears well in her eyes and she lets them fall without restraint, let's them dribble down her chin without wiping at them.

****

“I love you,” she says, eyes still on Henry’s still face, like speaking it out loud matters, like he'll hear and know even though he will not hear anything ever again. She brushes his hair back and leans forward to press her lips gently to his forehead, fresh tears spilling from her eyes.

****

The flash of light that follows is stunning.

****

More stunning is the gasp of air that fills Henry’s lungs before his eyes fly open, startled brown looking up at her.

****

“You did it,” he grins like he hadn't just been lying there dead a moment ago.

****

Emma crushes him in a hug that lasts and lasts, like they are the only people in the room, in the world. She repeats her, “I love you,” wanting to be sure he knows.

****

The world does not stay reduced to just the two of them for long though.

****

“ _Your majesty_ ,” someone says, a voice filled with contempt and hatred and it's only then that Emma really processes what _you did it_ means, really understands what that flash of light was - the curse is broken.

****

Emma looks up, not towards the source of those words, but to where they were directed. She finds Regina standing there frozen with tear streaked cheeks.

****

“Thank you,” Regina mouths at Emma and it takes Emma a little too long to understand what exactly she's being thanked for.

****

To Henry, Regina says, “I love you, Henry,” like it’s a plea, like all she wants is for him to believe that, and then she turns and hastily leaves.

****

All Emma can do is watch her go.

****

xxxxxx

****

The curse is broken. Magic has been unleashed on the town. And Emma is standing face to face with her _parents._ She is pretty sure she is supposed to be happy. She is pretty sure she is supposed to feel something other than queasy. She is pretty sure she isn't supposed to be so thrilled when a mob needs to be tamed.

****

Okay, so she is only thrilled about the distraction, not actually about the mob descending on Regina’s house. The last hours have been overwhelming, and she hasn't really even begun to process anything, but the one thing she does know is that she _doesn't_ want Regina hurt.

****

The look of surprise in Regina’s eyes when Emma defends her makes Emma feel oddly warm and she nearly gulps before she turns her attention back to the mob of people and convinces them all to go the hell away.

****

“Probably best if you stay inside and lock the doors for now,” she tells Regina because she has no better plan yet.

****

“And where are you going?” Regina asks.

****

Emma shrugs. “Somewhere to figure some stuff out.”

****

“Insightful.” Regina rolls her eyes before turning to look at Henry, her expression softening. “Did you… want to come in, Henry?” she asks so tentatively.

****

The hurt in Regina’s eyes when Henry rejects her with a harsh, “ _No_ ,” hurts Emma too.

****

Regina closes the door in her face before Emma can sort out how to make it better.

****

xxxxxx

****

There's a town meeting - her parents (that still sounds weird even in her head) idea.

****

About sixteen different people call for Regina’s head and Emma is irrationally angry at all of them.

****

“I don't want them to hurt my mom,” Henry whispers to her, looking genuinely worried.

****

Emma is actually sort of relieved by his concern - perhaps salvaging his relationship with Regina won't be as difficult as she was starting to worry it would be. “Me either, kid.”

****

“Enough!” she says after a seventeenth person chimes in. She pushes herself up from her chair and stalks to the front to glare at everyone in the room. “No one is hurting Regina.”

****

“Why not?” someone chirps.

****

“Because she's my-” Emma stops herself, not even really sure what she was going to fill in there - _future wife?_ “Because she's Henry’s mother.”

****

“ _And_?” someone else calls out, like that isn't a good enough reason.

****

“No one is hurting Regina. Because I'm the sheriff and I said so,” Emma says sharply, frustrated. “This isn't the magic fairytale land you all came from, it's the real world.”

****

“But there _is_ magic here now,” yet another voice pipes up. “Isn't that what all that purple smoke was about?”

****

“Not the point,” Emma throws her arms up, exasperated. “And Regina had nothing to do with that, ask _Gold_ about it.” She practically hisses his name, the betrayal that had nearly lost them Henry fresh in her mind.

****

“Where is that imp?” Granny asks. “I have a thing or two to say to him.”

****

It's only then that Emma realizes that Gold is not here. She doesn't know why exactly that leaves her unsettled but there's a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

****

xxxxxx

****

She's too late.

****

Gold has broken into the manor and marked Regina with some kind of magic coin thing that’s going to send a monster to kill her or something, and, honestly, Emma is just so over this day. When it's finally done she's going to sleep for a week.

****

They come up with a plan (okay, Regina comes up with a plan). The problem with the plan is that it requires Regina’s magic to work, which it does not. Or, at least, it does not until Emma puts her arm on her shoulder - _that_ probably means something but it's not as if Emma gets any chance to contemplate it before she's slipping and heading right for the portal that the shadowy monster thing had just disappeared through.

****

_Seriously_. She's done with this day.

****

But then someone has her arm. Someone has caught her, is pulling her backwards out of the swirling portal. Someone is saving her.

****

“I've got you,” Regina says, helping her up from the floor after the portal has closed, her fingers lingering on Emma's arm longer than necessary, eyes locked with Emma’s.

****

“Thank you.” Emma’s voice sounds odd even to her own ears and she swallows thickly, still staring at Regina whose eyes are filled with relief and longing that Emma thinks she might be imagining.

****

It's only when Mary Margaret clears her throat that Emma pulls away hastily, her arm slipping from Regina’s grasp. “We should uhh… I've got to go check on Henry.” She pretends she doesn't see the hurt - or is it disappointment? - in Regina’s eyes when she turns to leave.

****

xxxxxx

****

Emma sleeps and sleeps and sleeps and wakes up actually feeling refreshed. It takes her a minute to remember the events of the previous day. It takes her another minute to convince herself it wasn't just a dream.

****

No, it wasn’t a dream - the curse was real, Henry almost died, but she saved him, and broke the curse, and then Regina saved her from falling through a swirling vortex.

****

_Regina_.

****

Emma’s thoughts settle there. She thinks she's maybe supposed to be angry with Regina. She's having a hard time mustering any anger at all though. She just keeps thinking of the expression on Regina’s face when she’d confessed that she always thought Emma would be a bright spot in her future and how betrayed she'd felt that night Emma showed up on her doorstep, her true part in Regina’s future seemingly clear. She just keeps thinking of the devastation on a young Regina’s face as she cradled Daniel’s body. Keeps thinking of how hurt Regina looked when Henry hadn't wanted to come inside. Keeps thinking of the way Regina’s fingers had lingered on her arm and the way the longing in her eyes had made Emma’s heart flip.

****

No, she's not angry at Regina, not at all.

****

She's not angry but she _is_ tired of being patient. Henry could have died yesterday. Regina could have died yesterday. Emma could have fallen through a portal and then who knows what would have happened. Yes, she's been patient and now she's done with it. Even if just that thought causes a flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

****

xxxxxx

****

Before Emma can do anything with her decision to throw patience out the window, there is something else she needs to do first.

****

She buys hot chocolate in take out cups and brings Henry to his castle. They sit side by side, their legs dangling over the edge, exactly as they'd sat the day she'd told Henry about being a time traveller. “I want to apologize, kid,” she tells him, clutching her styrofoam cup with both hands. “I'm sorry I didn't believe you.”

****

Henry shrugs, looking down at his own styrofoam cup. “It's okay.”

****

“No it’s not,” Emma shakes her head, refusing to be let off the hook that easily. She looks over at him, and he looks up at her with eyes filled with curiosity. “I know what it's like to not be believed. I know how awful that feels. I should have believed you and I'm really sorry I didn't.”

****

“Okay.” This time the okay isn't _it's okay_ , it’s an acceptance of the apology. “Thanks.” He smiles at her.

****

Emma smiles back at him, nudges his side affectionately, as she sips her hot chocolate.

****

“But you had a reason, right?” Henry asks after they've sat in silence for more than a minute.

****

“Yes,” Emma confirms slowly, “But that doesn't change the fact that I still should have believed you. All the people who didn't believe me had reasons too, didn't make it hurt any less.”

****

Henry just shakes his head. “I didn't mean it like that.”  There's a hint of eagerness in his next words, an unasked question within the question he asks. “It’s because of whatever you saw in the future?”

****

“Yes,” Emma confirms even more slowly than before, suspicious of that hint of eagerness.

****

“Are you _ever_ going to tell me what you saw?” There's _definitely_ eagerness in his voice now, the question punctuated with a smirking kind of smile.

****

Emma laughs softly at the expression on his face. “Probably not.”

****

“ _Please_ ,” he says, his eyes shining and his expression puppy dog like.

****

Emma just shakes her head, laughing softly again. “Some day, kid, hopefully you'll see it for yourself.” She isn't quite sure how to get to that future, isn't quite sure how to move forward from here, but she is certain that she wants to try. A week ago, sitting in this very place, she couldn't wrap her head around the possibility of marrying an evil queen. A week ago she assumed Henry's assumption was wrong for that very reason. Today she thinks everything is a lot less black and white than it seemed. She still can't shake young Regina’s sad eyes. Or the devastation on her face at the hospital. There is more to Regina than whatever Henry's book says - she is sure.

****

“Was the future good?” Henry looks less certain now, biting his lip.

****

Emma smiles reassuringly at him. “It was great.”

****

He still looks unsure and his next question is quiet, really quiet. “Was my mom there?”

****

“She was,” Emma says carefully, not sure exactly what Henry's intention is here.

****

“Was she happy?” His voice is still far too quiet.

****

“Yes, she was.” Emma smiles gently at him, thinking she understands where these questions are coming from now.

****

Henry looks relieved for a second but when he looks up at her it's with a conflicted expression. “It's just… I thought she was bad and you were good at that's how it was. But you worked together to save me. And then she stopped you from falling through that portal. And I don't know what to think now. And… and she's still my mom.”

****

Emma sets her hot chocolate aside so that she can wrap her arm around his shoulders, squeezing gently. “Life is a lot less black and white than your fairytale book makes it out to be. It's okay to be confused." She squeezes his shoulders once more and then adds, "And it's okay to still love your mom. I _know_ she loves you." She's pretty sure that's the real root of his conflict.

****

“Yeah?” he asks, looking hopeful now.

****

“Yes,” Emma confirms with certainty.

****

Henry relaxes, leaning into Emma's side and she ruffles his hair gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

****

Henry smiles and Emma has the sudden feeling that everything really might turn out okay.

****

xxxxxx

****

The butterflies from earlier return when Emma knocks on the door of the manor. They only seem to multiply as she hears the clicking of heels on the other side of the door.

****

The door swings open and Regina stands there, appraises her with pursed lips and tense shoulders, like if she stares long enough, she will somehow be able to read Emma’s mind. Finally, she asks, “Do you need something?” She sounds exhausted, as if, unlike Emma, she hasn't slept at all.

****

“No… uhhh,” Emma rocks on her heels, running a hand through her hair, feeling completely flustered for no good reason. “I just, uhhhh… wanted to invite you to dinner?"

****

Regina crosses her arms over her chest and quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t sound all that certain about this invitation.”

****

Emma gulps, this isn’t going at all how she pictured it and part of her just wants to turn around and run - and drink enough tonight to forget all about this. But she pushes that thought away, straightening her shoulders, a flash of determination overcoming her. “I am. Please come to dinner. With me. And Henry."

 

At Henry's name, Regina's expression brightens, but she still pushes back, “Why should I come?”

 

“ _Because_ ,” is the answer Emma gives, illogically hoping that could possibly be explanation enough.

 

“Because is not an answer,” Regina smirks, seeming amused now with Emma’s mounting frustration.

****

“Why is it so hard for you to just agree to come to dinner?” Emma snaps out.

****

“Why is it so hard for you to tell me _why_ you want me to?” Regina replies with a question of her own, much more calmly than Emma.

****

Emma sighs, her shoulders slumping, and her next words are filled with a mixture of exasperation and longing. “I’ve been to the future, Regina. I’ve been to the future and… and you said, you _told me_ I had to be patient, and I've been trying here, really.”

****

“This is you, trying?” Regina quirks an eyebrow.

****

“ _Regina_ ,” Emma breathes her name out, and she knows it sounds like pleading - she _is_ pleading. Her eyes are wide and earnest and filled with a longing that expands and expands in her chest, feeling like it might suffocate her. “You saved me yesterday. You didn’t have to do that, but you _did_ . That _means_ something. And I’m just so tired of pretending that I don’t know how this all turns out.”

****

Regina’s breath catches in her throat. “And how does it turn out?” there's nothing smooth about her delivery now.

****

“How do you think?” Emma turns the question back on her because she's not sure she can say - she's not sure she _should_ say.

****

“You broke my curse,” Regina says evenly. “I should hate you.”

****

“ _Should_?” Emma prods, the hope in her voice unmistakable.

****

It’s Regina’s turn to sigh. She seems to struggle with her answer. “I’ve known you since I was six years old, Emma.”

****

It’s a clear answer, even if it’s not an answer at all, and Emma’s eyes are alight with hope in response. “So…” she says, tentative despite that hope. “You _don’t_ hate me?”

****

“Frustratingly, no,” Regina admits and there is the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

 

“Good.” Emma beams in response, the smile managing to light up her whole face. “That’s a start.”

****

“A start to what?” It's hesitant and hopeful and Regina scowls like the tone of her voice has betrayed her.

****

“You’ll see,” Emma offers mischievously, feeling lighter now.

****

“What if I don't want to _see_ anything?” Regina clings to obstinance like it’s her only protection from whatever Emma standing here is making her feel. She tries to glower but doesn't quite succeed.

****

Emma is only amused by that response. Her heart is soaring at the possibility she feels is right here in front of them. “Please just come to dinner, Regina. We can take it from there.”

****

Regina opens her mouth as if to protest but she just closes it, nodding in agreement instead.

****

Emma’s response is a smile, soft and earnest.

****

Perhaps this will be their beginning.

****

Then again, haven’t they already had more than one of those?

****

Maybe, instead, this is simply a place for them to start again.

****

**End Part I**


	4. Part II (i)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just because I've gotten this question a couple of times, and because we're entering the portion of the plot where this becomes more relevant, I just wanted to provide some reassurance that no one is dying here - I promise I would have tagged it properly if there was going to be major character death. Hope you enjoy the second half of this fic!!

** Part II **

_Come to me my sweetest friend_  
_Can you feel my heart again_  
_I'll take you back where you belong_  
_And this will be our favorite song_  
_Come to me with secrets bare_  
_I'll love you more so don't be scared_  
_And when we're old and near the end_  
_We'll go home and start again_

\- __Come to Me, Goo Goo Dolls__

* * *

 

Starting again isn’t exactly easy.

****

Neither of them are great at trusting even with a past and a future together as proof that maybe they _should_.

****

It doesn't help that at first no one in town is especially willing to give Regina another chance. She pretends their suspicion and hatred doesn't bother her but Emma sees right through that - sees how much Regina is _trying_ , how much she wants to be seen as more than just her past actions. Emma, who has spent years and years, her whole life, wanting nothing more than to be _seen_ , understands that better than anyone.

****

The thing is, even here in this town where everyone knows her name, Emma still feels invisible. She's _The Savior_ to the people here. Nothing more than a label she doesn't like much more than she liked the label _troubled_ when she was still a child hoping desperately for a family.

****

She doesn’t feel invisible to Regina though. Regina who looks at Emma like she _understands_ her. Who sometimes smiles at Emma in this way that Emma used to think was reserved exclusively for Henry. Regina makes Emma feel _seen_ in a way she's never been before. And she thinks she just might make Regina feel the same.

****

So, no, it isn't easy, it's tentative and slow, but it is also kind of _nice._

****

And somewhere between dinners with Henry, and magic lessons, and days spent together just because, and saving the town from blowing up (they manage that with joint magic that definitely means _something_ ), it just happens.

****

It's on a night after months of nights just like it, with Henry asleep upstairs in his bed, and Regina bringing out chocolate drizzled popcorn because _I know you get hungry if you don’t eat every other hour,_ that Emma blurts out without thought, "I think I love you?"

****

“Is that a question?” Regina quirks an eyebrow, looking amused but also something else - nervous, maybe.

****

Emma’s palms are suddenly sweaty. She feels like an idiot and she kind of just wants the floor to open up and swallow her whole. She wishes she hadn't said anything at all but she can't exactly take it back now. They haven't even _kissed_ yet for goodness sakes. She really is an idiot.

****

“Emma?” Regina prods, eyes flickering concern when Emma takes too long to answer.

****

Emma startles out of her spiraling thoughts. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have blurted that out. I'm not good at this. I've never…” she trails off, her eyes dropping to the floor.

****

Regina apparently isn't just going to let it go though, isn't going to let Emma hide. She reaches a hand out and settles it gently on Emma’s knee. “Never what?”

****

Emma bites her lip, her gaze now fixed on that hand on her knee. She takes a breath and then another and then she looks up, green eyes finding warm brown ones. “Been _in_ love.” It’s a whispered confession. Once she'd thought she'd loved a boy but that hadn't been love - that seems so clear now.

****

“Oh.” Regina’s eyes widen, the surprise evident, like that wasn't at all what she was expecting Emma to say.

****

“I'm sorry,” Emma rushes out before Regina can really say anything at all. “I didn't mean to make this - _you_ \- uncomfortable.”

****

Regina smiles then, slow and fond, and she shakes her head ever so slightly. “I'm not uncomfortable, Emma.”

****

“You aren't?” Emma can't help the way she perks up at that, can't stop hope from blossoming in her chest.

****

Regina laughs and it's so light. “Of course not.”

****

Emma’s not sure how to process that, and, for the second time tonight, she just blurts out that first thought that comes into her head, “But we haven't even kissed yet.”

****

The way Regina smiles then is far too coy, as is the way she quirks an eyebrow at Emma. “We could easily fix that.”

****

Emma is pretty sure her eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Yeah?” she says in a way that does not come off anywhere near the level of cool she is trying to pull off.

****

“Yes.” Regina confirms, still managing to be completely, infuriatingly, collected - exactly the level of cool Emma wishes she could pull off.

****

Emma just sits there blinking rapidly, her heart thumping rapidly in her chest.

****

Regina is the one who raises the hand that had been resting on Emma’s knee up to cup Emma’s cheek. Regina is the one who leans forward, slowly, slowly, slowly. And Regina is the one who presses their lips together.

****

Emma comes alive when Regina’s lips slide against hers. She runs her hands along Regina’s arms and then loops them around Regina’s neck, tugging her closer, and then closer still until they are pressed completely against one another.

****

They kiss and kiss and kiss and if Emma were capable of any thought at all in this moment (she is not) it would be to wonder why they've waited so long for this.

****

When they are both finally breathless and in need of a moment to recover, Regina rests her forehead against Emma's. Her thumb brushes gently against Emma's jawline, as she stares at her with eyes filled with affection, her chest heaving. “I love you too,” she says between breaths.

****

Staring into those eyes, absorbing this affection, this look she’d never completely been sure she'd see again, Emma wonders if it's possible for a heart to explode - hers feels like it just might.

****

xxxxxx

****

The next time Emma time travels after that, she appears in the thicket on the edge of a clearing it takes her a minute to recognize - it looks different in the daylight. She smiles to herself, feeling sort of pleased to be back here, and reaches behind the rock where she found pants and a loose fitting shirt the last time - she comes up empty handed. _Oh well_ , she thinks, it's not as if this is the first time she's had to go hunting for something to wear. Maybe she'll try the barn.

****

Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears humming coming from the clearing and she peers over a row of brush to find its source: a dark haired child, sitting on a blanket, picnic basket beside her, watching the horses in a paddock down the hill. _Regina_ \- a young, really young, Regina.

****

Emma shifts, accidentally rustling the brush, and Regina's head whips in her direction.

****

“Who's there?” The question comes, filled with wariness.

****

Emma hesitates, seriously debating pretending she's not here before conceding to herself that that would be a terrible plan. “Uhh… could you maybe toss that blanket over here?”

****

Even from this distance she can see the way Regina's brow furrows adorably. “Why?” she asks her voice filled with wariness.

****

“I, uhhh, lost my clothes?” Emma grimaces at how awkward that sounds.

****

Regina's eyes widen, almost comically so.

****

“So could I, errrr… get that blanket?” Emma asks when it's been a minute and Regina hasn’t moved. “Please,” she adds hastily.

****

Regina is clearly hesitant but slowly she rises, gathers up the blanket and carries it towards the brush.

****

“Just toss it over,” Emma encourages when Regina is close enough.

****

Regina nods, her lips pursing, her face the picture of determination as she lobs the blanket over the brush.

****

“Good throw,” Emma says, feeling fondness when she sees how proud, and how happy, Regina looks at the praise. She wraps the blanket carefully around herself, making sure she is well covered, before she steps out from behind the brush.

****

Regina eyes her up and down, brow slightly furrowed, as she seems to try to decide what to make of this woman wrapped in her picnic blanket.

****

Emma can tell by the way that Regina is looking at her that she's never seen her before. This must be their _first_ meeting. Well, it’s not _her_ version of their first meeting, but it _is_ Regina's. She's suddenly nervous, her heart fluttering rapidly in anticipation. What if she messes this all up? It's a ridiculous thought when she already knows it turns out fine, their future is proof of that, but it doesn't stop the worry or the rapid fluttering in her chest.

****

“Hi,” Emma says with an awkward sort of half wave and a smile that she knows is at least a little uncertain.

****

“Hello,” Regina repeats back to her, carefully. Emma can see the struggle in her eyes - wariness and curiosity in equal measure. Curiosity seems to win out as she asks, “Who are you?”

****

It's a question filled with weight that this six year old Regina could not understand, let alone intend. A lifetime, _lifetimes_ really, both already and not yet lived, flash through Emma's head before she says simply, “Emma, I’m Emma.”

****

Regina nods, looking much too serious for her age as her head tilts in contemplation. “How did you lose your clothes?”

****

“I didn't _lose_ lose them,” Emma tries to explain, a hand reaching up to run through her hair. “It's just, see, I'm a time traveler, and clothes don't come with me.”

****

“Time travel isn't possible.” Regina's eyes narrow instantly, like she's about to burst into a lecture.

****

Emma can't help but laugh.

****

The laughter makes Regina scowl and she looks genuinely hurt when she asks, “Why are you laughing at me?”

****

“I'm not, I'm not, sorry,” Emma rushes out the apology and when the scowl doesn't disappear, she tries again, “You just remind me of, well, _you_.”

****

“We don't know each other,” Regina says like she maybe thinks Emma is a little dumb.

****

Emma barely suppresses the chuckle bubbling up in her chest but she manages to because she has no desire to see Regina's eyes fill with hurt again. "I know, I know,” she agrees. “Not _yet_ , anyway. But I know you when you're grown up.”

****

Regina's lips purse again, that furrow back in her brow. “Are you _really_ a time traveler?” she finally asks, and there's just a hint of wonder under all of the disbelief.

****

“Yes.” Emma smiles.

****

“Mother says time travel is not possible with magic.” Regina says it like she's repeating a lesson that's been drilled into her head.

****

There's a flair of anger in Emma's chest, the same anger that always sparks at mentions of _Cora_ , but now isn't the time or place to let that anger simmer into anything more, so she forces herself to ignore it. “I'm not using magic. Time traveling is just part of me.” Emma shrugs because, for all the years of time travel, the _why_ still remains an elusive mystery. She does know that it's _not_ magic - because the first time it happened she was six in a land without magic.

****

Regina is still eyeing her skeptically, not that Emma is surprised, asking _anyone_ to believe in time travel is tricky. She needs Regina to believe her though - or well maybe not _needs_ but most definitely _wants_. “Here, I can prove it,” she tries a different tactic. “Your name is Regina Mills. Your parents are Henry and Cora.”

****

Regina's mouth twists. “You could have learned that.”

****

Emma can't exactly argue with that. She also can't help but smile. “Okay, how about I tell you something that I know is going to happen?”

****

There's that same flicker of wonder in Regina's eyes again, like she does really want to believe, even though she thinks she shouldn’t. She bobs her little head with barely restrained eagerness, _yes_.

****

Emma tries to remember what Regina, the one waiting for her back in the time she belongs in, said about this meeting, about when exactly it occurs. It takes her a minute but then she’s got it. “In two weeks, it will be your birthday, and you're going to cut your lip. You'll have a scar right here.” She taps her own upper lip where she knows Regina's scar will be.

****

Emma expects bewilderment of some form, instead what she gets is annoyance.

****

“But I won't know if that's true or not for two whole weeks,” Regina complains and then snaps her mouth shut, her eyes widening fearfully, as if she's done something she's not supposed to.

****

Anger at Cora, who Emma is sure to blame for that last reaction, flares up again, but Emma tamps it down once more, focusing on smiling reassuringly at Regina instead. "Sorry, that's all I've got." There's lots of things about Regina’s future she knows but not many of them that she can share _ever_ , let alone with a six year old.

****

Regina relaxes when Emma doesn't get angry at her for complaining. She returns Emma's smile with a shy one of her own. “If I'm extra careful, maybe I won't have a scar at all?” she wonders, her eyes lighting up with curiosity once more.

****

Emma knows the answer, knows that the scar will still be there when she gets back to her own time, but there's really no point saying that. “Maybe,” she offers with a soft smile and shrug.

****

Regina eyes widen in alarm. “You're disappearing!” she points towards Emma's left hand.

****

Emma doesn't need to look down at her vanishing hand to know that's true, she can feel the pull in her chest. “Yep.”

****

“Are you going to be back?” Regina wonders, eyes still wide.

****

"Yes, I promise.” Emma smiles fondly and then she's gone.

****

xxxxxx

****

“Move in,” Regina says one night a few months later. They are sitting out back, Regina curled into Emma's side, Emma's arm around her shoulders, both gazing up at the stars, impossibly content just to be together.

****

It would maybe seem rushed if it weren't for the eternity that it took them to get here. As it is, it just feels _right_. Emma looks over at her, smiling, “Really?”

****

“Yes,” Regina confirms, even if she seems nervous all of a sudden, like she's not sure Emma will agree. “Only if you want to, of course.”

****

Emma nudges Regina’s side, leaning over and pressing their lips together, her tongue pushing into Regina’s mouth, her fingers tangling in dark hair. They're both panting when they finally part. “Of course I want to,” Emma says, just in case that might not be clear.

****

Regina smiles at Emma then like maybe she's finally starting to believe that everything really will turn out okay for them.

****

Emma has never been so content in her life.

****

xxxxxxx

****

Moving in isn't all that difficult - Emma doesn't have much stuff, she's never really clung to anything. Her parents (that is still weird, though less than it was) are oddly supportive about the move and she can't help but wonder if they just want her out of the loft or if they really are this enthusiastic about her relationship with their former enemy.

****

Henry, for his part, is over the moon about having both of his mothers under the same roof - he asks if _this_ is what Emma saw in the future, his eyes twinkling with delight, and all Emma can do is smile and say _something like it_.

****

One morning, a few weeks after she's moved in, Emma finds herself in front of the master bedroom closet, finds herself staring at her clothes hanging neatly beside Regina's, finds herself overwhelmed. She's not sure where this sudden wave of emotion has come from, these same clothes have hung here for weeks, but today it bubbles up in her chest and leaves her frozen.

****

She isn’t sure how long she stands there before Regina comes to find her.

****

“Are you okay?” the question comes from the bedroom doorway, the concern in Regina’s voice evident.

****

Emma turns slowly to look over at her. “Yeah, of course.”

****

It must not come out quite right though because Regina frowns and closes the distance between them. She tucks stray hair behind Emma's ear tenderly, searching her eyes with a kind of intensity, demanding firmly, “What's wrong?”

****

“Nothing.”

****

A quirked eyebrow is the response to that and Emma sighs.

****

“It’s just. I've never felt so…” she trails off, shrugging instead of completing the thought, suddenly self conscious even though she knows Regina will understand.

****

“ _Emma_ ,” Regina prods and it's gentle, so gentle. She reaches out, rubbing her thumb against Emma's forearm as if to soothe her.

****

“I've never felt so at home,” Emma completes her previous thought in barely more than a whisper, putting words to the feeling that had overwhelmed her standing in front of the closet. It feels like a bigger admission than it really is - it's no secret that home is a thing she's never really had. “My clothes are just hanging there beside yours,” she waves vaguely in the direction of the closet without taking her eyes off Regina, “Like they _belong_ there, like _I_ belong here.”

****

“ _Darling_ ,” Regina murmurs in that way that is filled with nothing but understanding and love. She wraps her arms around Emma with no hesitation, kissing her cheek.

****

Emma melts into the hug, her own arms circling Regina’s waist, and her face burrowing into the crook of Regina’s neck, breathing in deeply, and then sighing happily.

****

“Do you know how happy I've been these last weeks? That's because you do belong,” Regina says, her words just as strong and sure as her arms wrapped around Emma. “You belong here with me and with Henry. We're you're home now. As long as you'll have us.”

****

Emma can't help the way she trembles at that, can't help the way that feeling in her chest - _belonging_ \- expands and expands until it consumes her. “I love you,” she says, the words muffled because her face is still pressed into the crook of Regina’s neck.

****

“I love you,” Regina echoes.

****

Emma lifts her head then, intent on kissing Regina, but she stills before her lips can make their way completely to Regina's, her eyes widen in surprise as a version of herself appears before them and then promptly crumples to the floor.

****

Regina reacts first, moving quickly and lowering herself down beside the future version of Emma. She appraises the situation with serious eyes and pursed lips, hands reaching out to press at other Emma's abdomen as she writhes in pain.

****

Emma remains frozen, watching in horror as Regina’s hands turn red.

****

_Blood_. There's blood. This future version of herself is bleeding. A lot. Is she… shot? It looks like a gunshot wound. Why? How?

****

Emma's thoughts just spiral around and around until Regina looks up, her eyes are tinged with panic. “ _Emma_ ,” she says sharply. “Get some towels.”

****

Emma startles out of her stupor. She nods her head at Regina. _Towels_. She can get towels. It takes her another second to actually move, spinning around and rushing into the master bathroom, grabbing an armful of towels and rushing back into the room.

****

“Here,” Emma says, holding them out for Regina but they’re unnecessary, the future version of herself vanishes as quickly as she arrived - the only proof that she'd been there at all the pool of blood left on the floor.

****

Emma looks from the pool of blood to Regina still crouching there, Regina whose hands are covered with that same blood, Regina who is looking up at her with shocked eyes filled with fear.

****

“I-” Emma tries to find something to say, some way to process what has just happened, some way to remove that fear from Regina’s eyes, but she comes up blank. Any further attempt is prevented by a familiar tug. “Shit,” she mumbles when she looks down and realizes her arms are already half vanished.

****

“ _Em_ -” it's a sharp plea but it's pointless, Emma is gone before the last syllable of her name is past Regina’s lips.

****

xxxxxx

****

Emma is gone for three weeks. It's the longest she's ever been gone. It's the longest three weeks of her life.

****

She returns midday and finds Regina in her study. She doesn’t know why Regina is working from home in the middle of the week but she doesn’t much care.

****

“Regina,” Emma breathes out.

****

Regina looks up and the flash of relief on her face is so plain to see. “ _Emma_.”

****

Emma smiles slowly at her. “Hey.”

****

Regina closes her laptop and stands, moving quickly around her desk and over to Emma, folding her into a crushing hug. “You’re here,” she breathes out into Emma’s neck.

****

“I am,” Emma hums, closing her eyes and breathing in the smell of Regina’s shampoo, holding her a little tighter. She’s spent three weeks mostly running, mostly hiding, and all she’s wanted is to be back here, exactly here, in Regina’s arms.

****

“It’s been three weeks,” Regina says so quiet that Emma has to strain to hear even though Regina’s mouth is still right near Emma’s ear, her arms still wrapped tightly around Emma’s waist.

****

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispers because she’s not sure what else she’s supposed to say to that.

****

Regina pulls back so suddenly that Emma nearly whimpers at the loss of contact. Regina’s eyes are alight with a flash of anger. “Sorry. You’re _sorry_?”

****

“Yeah?” Emma says. It’s a question more than anything because she’s confused about where this sudden anger is coming from, about what exactly she's done to insight it.

****

“Do you know how worried Henry has been?” Regina demands.

****

Understanding washes over Emma. She should have realized. Emma has been away _three_ weeks - of course Regina’s been worried. “Just Henry?” she prods knowingly.

****

Regina huffs, refusing to answer that. “Do you know what it’s like to not know where you are or when you’re coming back?”  

****

Emma can’t help the sudden wave of frustration that overcomes her. It’s not fair for Regina to be angry at her for this. Her voice rises. “Don’t you think I want to stay here? Don’t you think I want to be here with you and Henry? It’s not like I can control this, you _know_ that. I didn’t _choose_ this, Regina. At least you got a choice. At least you got to choose this life.”

****

Regina’s face goes blank, Emma can see her shoulders stiffen, rage taking over. “You think I had a _choice_ ?” She doesn’t give Emma an opportunity to try and answer that. “You showed up in my life when I was six years old. You were my friend. And then you were gone. You said everything would be okay but it was years and years later before you were even _here_ . Henry’s birth mother showing up to break my curse. That’s a person I was supposed to get to _hate_ . But there you were, standing on my doorstep with that same ridiculous smile I was always so taken with. That same smile I’d waited _decades_ to see again. _Of course_ I was going to love you even when I tried not to. So, you tell me, what choice did I _ever_ have in any of this?” She's out of breath by the end, her face flushed and her chest heaving as she gulps in air.

****

Emma is frozen. She can't find anger to match Regina’s, not when Regina’s words have left guilt knotting itself in the pit of her stomach. “I'm sorry,” she says and she means it. She hasn't meant to hurt Regina but she _has_ hurt her and she hates herself for it.

****

Regina seems to be out of anger too, deflating as she wraps her arms around herself like she needs the comfort. She asks, barely above a whisper, expression filled with vulnerability, “How could you let me love you when… when I’m just going to lose you?”

****

Emma wants to reach out but the guilt twisting at her insides stops her. _She's_ caused this. She's caused this and she has no clue where to even begin fixing it. “You don't know you're going to lose me.” It's maybe not the right place to start but she's at a loss.

****

Regina stares and stares and stares before she admits, oddly defeated, “I lose everything I love.” She drops her arms back to her sides and there's something so resigned in that - like even the comfort she can provide herself isn't something she gets to keep.

****

Emma can't bear this, can’t bear the woman she loves, the strongest person she knows, standing in front of her looking so devastated. She doesn’t stop herself from reaching out this time. “Regina, that's not-”

****

“No, Emma.” Regina cuts her off, taking a step back at the same time, refusing to accept any of the comfort Emma so desperately wants to provide. “What’s the oldest you’ve ever seen yourself?” she demands and her voice is sharp again - not exactly angry but insistent.

****

“I...” Emma starts but then trails off when she realizes that the answer isn’t one that Regina is going to like.

****

Regina seems to know what Emma isn’t saying because her expression is pure dread. “I haven’t seen you older than maybe late thirties. And… the other night, you were _shot_.” Her eyes are wide, plaintive, like she’s begging Emma to tell her something different.

****

“Regina…” Emma starts again.

****

“No, don’t _Regina_ me,” Regina cuts her off once more. “What’s the oldest you’ve seen yourself, Emma?” the urgency of the question has only grown, as has the fear in Regina’s eyes.

****

Emma sighs and knows she can’t avoid any longer. “Yeah, late thirties, maybe… but maybe we just get cursed? That could explain the not aging?" She tries for levity, desperate to take away the pain in Regina’s eyes.

****

Regina is unimpressed. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

****

“Maybe?” Emma grimaces at how flat her attempt at a joke has fallen.

****

Regina doesn’t say anything, her eyes just narrowing further.

****

Anger is only a fraction better than pain and Emma sighs. “Regina, Regina come on. You said I told you everything would be okay. And _you_ told me the same thing. Are you calling us both liars?”

****

“ _When_ did I ever say that?” Regina’s expression remains unchanged.

****

“It was our wedding day.” Emma can’t help but smile at the memory despite the argument they are in the middle of.

 _That_ gets a reaction, Regina’s eyes widening, the surprise obvious. “We get married?”

****

Emma can do nothing but shrug, nodding her head in the affirmative.

****

Regina remains frozen, seeming to take that information in. It’s hard to tell whether she’s pleased or not, especially when what she says  next is, “Maybe future me _is_ a liar.”

****

“Regina…” Emma sighs. She reaches out and takes Regina’s hand, relieved when she doesn’t pull away this time. She laces their fingers together and squeezes. “Look. We can’t actually know what's going to happen. Gunshots are survivable. Lots of things are survivable.”

****

Any lingering anger or annoyance washes away from Regina’s face once more, replaced again with devastation. “You _can’t_ die.” It’s a plea.

****

Emma’s stomach twists at the pain in Regina’s eyes. Pain that is _her_ fault. And the worst part is, she can’t make it go away, she can’t provide Regina the reassurance that she needs. “You're not going to lose me if I have anything to say about it,” is the best she can offer.

****

“I need you, Emma.” Regina admits, squeezing the hand that is still clasped with hers tightly, like if she holds on tight enough, Emma won't ever leave her again.

****

“I need you too, Regina.” Emma’s mouth ticks upward into a lopsided smile that is half pain and half fondness. She leans forward and presses her lips to Regina’s, it’s a desperate sort of kiss, filled with longing and apology and _love_. She uses her free hand to reach up and cup Regina’s cheek, the pad of her thumb stroking gently along Regina’s cheek bone as she deepens the kiss.

****

When they pull back, Emma squeezes their joined hands once more. “I know this life isn’t perfect. I know being with me is… complicated. _Difficult_. But I can’t imagine my life any other way. I can’t imagine my life without you. And I'm sorry if that's selfish of me, I'm really sorry. But I don't know how to walk away from you.”

****

“I don’t want you to walk away, Emma.” Regina’s eyes are tinged with a kind of understanding, a kind of _knowing_ , that makes Emma feel transparent. “Don’t you know that by now?” she says it almost sadly, like she knows that Emma doesn't, not really.

****

The thing is, Emma has never been loved before this. She doesn’t know the rules, doesn’t know where the lines are, or if she’s crossing them. Even if Regina makes her feel like there are no rules at all - like she'll love Emma regardless of her missteps and her faults. It's still terrifying because it's too much - too much to lose after having too little for so long. Sometimes she is actually surprised she hasn't tried to run yet - that she doesn't want to at all.

****

Emma smiles wryly, voicing that last thought out loud. “It's funny, you know? Because running is the one thing I've always been good at. But now…” she shakes her head and tries to start again. “Time is like gravity. Certain moments, certain places, they tug harder than others. That's why I visit the same places so much. But I never realized…” She’s rambling and she knows it but she can’t seem to stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth, can't stop trying to explain what she's really trying to say here. “It’s just, for so long I was so alone, and I just didn't know, didn't have a clue that people could be like gravity too. You’re my gravity, Regina.”

****

“ _Emma_ ,” Regina breathes out, her expression filled with nothing but fondness and love now. “Sometimes it feels like I’ve loved you forever.”

****

Emma reaches out and tucks stray hair behind Regina’s ear, the gesture filled with tenderness. “I'm so sorry.”

****

“Why?” Regina’s head tilts and she looks genuinely confused.

 

“I’m sorry you never got a choice. I know how much you hate fate. And that's what we are, right? _Fate_ . _Inevitable_.” Emma searches Regina’s eyes for some sign, something to tell her what Regina is thinking.

****

“Perhaps,” Regina says slowly, her expression serious. She squeezes Emma’s hand. “But I love you. And I love Henry. And I love our life no matter how complicated it is. And if that means I have to be okay with whatever part fate did or did not play in it, then I think I'm ready to accept that. I do have a choice now. And I chose you. Every day. I chose you, Emma. You're so worth choosing.”

****

Emma barely breathes while Regina speaks. She can’t help the moisture that fills her eyes, threatening to spill over. No one has ever _chosen_ her and to hear it said out loud like that - it's overwhelming. “I love you so much,” is what tumbles out of Emma’s mouth when she finally manages to speak, like there’s nothing else worth saying - she’s not sure there is.

****

“I love you too.” Regina smiles softly. She leans closer and presses her lips to Emma’s in the gentlest of kisses. She pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against Emma’s, warm.brown eyes staring directly into shimmering green ones. “Let's get married,” she whispers.

****

“Okay,” Emma replies just as softly, her eyes never leaving Regina’s, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

****

“Right now,” Regina says with an odd sort of serious tone.

****

“Right now?” Emma’s brow crinkles.

****

“Yes.” Regina smiles, straightening.

****

Emma is still frowning. “But this isn’t how we get married?”

****

Regina shrugs, looking impossibly amused now. “Says who?”

****

“Me. The time traveller,” Emma says like that should have been obvious, which it should have.  “I literally just told you like five minutes ago that I’ve already been to our wedding day.”

****

“And how exactly do we get married?” Regina smirks, still seeming impossibly amused.

****

“With our family and friends present. A big to do kind of thing from what I could gather. Stunning dress. The whole nine yards.” Emma shrugs.

****

“Stunning, hmm?” Regina smirks, coyly.

****

Emma rolls her eyes but she’s smiling. “You look gorgeous in everything. Are you surprised?”

****

Regina laughs, shaking her head. She sobers a bit, her mouth twisting in contemplation. “That wedding sounds more like something Snow would plan.”

****

“Yeah, kind of.” Emma can’t help but agree.

****

Regina presses a kiss to Emma’s cheek. “I still think we should get married now. I don't care about what you saw in the future.”

****

Emma narrows her eyes a little suspiciously. “Are you just trying to one-up fate?”

****

“And if I am?” Regina lifts a shoulder as if to say _so what_.

****

Emma laughs, high and bright. “Fuck fate. Let's get married. Right now.”

****

xxxxxx

****

Six months later at the wedding that Snow plans, Emma shows up an hour into the reception, met with a round of cheering and someone (she's pretty sure her mother) saying _about time_ \- the way Regina smirks, looking pleased at those words seems to confirm that they've come from Snow. If Emma has to hazard a guess, she's going to say that Regina was thrilled to inform Snow that the ceremony portion of the day was not required. Knowing that she would eventually get to tell Snow that they were already married was the only thing that got Regina through Snow’s ridiculous wedding planning. For Emma knowing she'd get to see Regina in _that_ dress again was enough.

****

Somehow Regina looks even better than Emma remembers and her mouth definitely goes a little dry when she approaches her. Smoothing her own dress, she grins, “Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Swan-Mills.”

****

Regina rolls her eyes but her expression is filled with fondness. “I suppose I can forgive you on one condition.”

****

“Oh really?” Emma waggles her eyebrows. “And what condition might that be?”

****

Regina laughs. “You're ridiculous. Come here.”

****

Emma doesn't need to be told twice, she closes the distance between them in quick strides, and pulls Regina to her, pressing their lips together in a searing kiss that is met with applause - Emma had sort of forgotten about the crowd of people watching them.

****

When they pull back, Emma notes that the music has turned soft and she holds out her hand, palm up, “May I have this dance?”

****

Regina smiles, taking the offered hand and letting herself be lead onto the dance floor that has been cleared out for just the two of them.

****

Emma gathers Regina up in her arms and kisses her once more, soft and slow, before they begin to sway to the music. This is not the elaborate dancing of the Enchanted Forest - this is just two people content to hold each other.

****

She rests her forehead against Regina’s, turning them slowly in a circle. “You know,” she murmurs, “I think you forgot to tell past me that today actually isn't our wedding day.”

****

Regina's eyes are shining with love and amusement, and she smirks, “We’ve got to keep some things a surprise for you.”

****

Emma tips her head back to laugh. "Future me was right," she says when her laughter has faded, kissing Regina's cheek, "This is better than anything I could ever have imagined."


	5. Part II (ii)

It's not too long after the wedding that Emma finds herself in the Enchanted Forest - a place she finds herself more and more frequently these days, always arriving in the same meadow she had the first two times, and always finding clothes waiting for her - clothes she now knows are left there for her by Regina.

 

Today Regina is young, eight, maybe, sitting beside Emma on a wool blanket spread out on the grassy hill overlooking the barn, twisting flowers together into a delicate crown. “Are you married?" she asks curiously.

 

“Yes, actually, I am,” Emma confirms with a nod and a fond smile she cannot hold back.

 

Regina sighs, not the dreamy kind of sigh, but a morose sigh that is far too serious for her age. “Mother says I will marry a king someday.”

 

Those words - the reminder that there are still so many horrible things ahead for this Regina - is a punch to Emma’s gut. Hatred for Cora Mills simmers in her veins as she tries to keep her face neutral. “And what do you want?”

 

Regina looks a little startled, as if no one has ever asked her that before - they probably haven’t. She blinks up at Emma, eyes filled with a sadness that Emma can’t stand. “I don't want to get married,” she says in a flat voice, looking immediately over her shoulder at the admission, as if she expects her mother to pop up out of nowhere and reprimand her for saying so. “I want to be free,” she admits, there’s a hint of hope filtering into her voice as she looks up at Emma expectantly, like this is a wish that Emma has the power to grant.

 

Emma’s heart aches knowing what she knows and she has to swallow past the lump in her throat. Still, she can't bring herself to crush that hope. “You will be. I promise.” It's not _really_ a lie but if feels like one anyway.

 

Regina beams up at her, the relief in her eyes palpable, and Emma’s insides twist painfully in guilt.

 

xxxxxx

 

Later that night, back in her own time and lying in bed in the dark, Emma tells Regina about that conversation, about the truth that was also a lie and the guilt that came with it.

 

“I wanted to tell her what was going to happen,” Emma admits. “I wanted to stop it all for her - for _you_ before it happened.”

 

“ _Emma_ ,” Regina murmurs and it's soft and fond and reproachful all at once. “You can't change the past.”

 

“I know, I know,” Emma grumbles, thinking she understands Regina’s concerns. "I might poof myself out of existence. And then there'd be no Henry… But you'd get to be _happy_.”

 

“I _am_ happy.” Regina insists, sounding almost irritated.

 

Emma isn’t willing to let it drop that easily though. “ _Now_ maybe. But I can't stand that you had to suffer first. We - _I_ \- could fix that.”

 

There’s a prolonged pause before Regina responds carefully, so carefully, “I'm not the only one who suffered, Emma.” Regina could mean anyone, really, but the way it's delivered makes it clear that she means Emma, specifically.

 

“Regina.” She says it with finality, refusing to allow this conversation to get off track. They've talked about this before - Regina’s guilt over Emma's less than idyllic childhood - it's never especially productive since Regina refuses to accept that she might not be as much to blame as she feels.

 

Regina sighs but chooses to respect Emma's mostly unspoken request to drop it. “Even if I were willing to trade you and Henry to eliminate my suffering, which I most definitely am _not_ , changing the past is impossible.”

 

Emma frowns at that. “ _How_ is it impossible?”

 

“Think about it,” Regina says, a hand reaching across the space between them and settling on Emma's abdomen. “If you tell a younger me to not to tell Snow that I'm running away with Daniel, then Daniel lives and the ripple effects are enormous. You probably don't even exist, but if you do, you certainly don't know to warn me about saving Daniel’s life, and without that warning everything happens how it already did. Changing the past is just not possible.”

 

Emma stares up at the ceiling and tries to process that. “You’re saying that whatever is going to happen is just going to happen because it's already happened and we have zero control?”

 

“Yes, essentially.” There's the barest hint of amusement in Regina’s voice and it must be at Emma’s delivery because the subject isn't amusing at all as far as Emma is concerned.

 

“That's… depressing,” Emma grumbles.

 

“A little,” Regina concedes. The hand resting on Emma's abdomen slips under Emma's pajama top, her thumb brushing gently against bare skin. “But I'm happy now. Aren't you?”

 

“Of course I am.” There's no hesitation.

 

“That's what matters most.” It's a murmur.

 

“I love you, you know?” Emma finds herself saying, a happy little sigh escaping as Regina’s thumb continues to trace a pattern against her skin.

 

“Yes, I do know,” Regina confirms, and Emma can hear that she's smiling. “I love you too,” she adds, rolling over and finding Emma's lips in the dark, for a kiss that says exactly jow much she does.

 

xxxxxx

 

In the months that follow, Emma time travels far more than she would like.

 

She misses family event after family event and frustration mounts and mounts.

 

In February she misses Regina’s birthday, and then Henry’s school play. She vanishes just before the latter is supposed to start, appearing somewhere in a forest at dusk - unusual since lately she mostly only travels to the master bedroom of the manor or the meadow near Regina’s childhood home. In this new, uncertain, place, all that building frustrating spills out - she kicks at the nearest tree, screaming at the top of her lungs, angry, frustrated tears, appearing in the corner of her eyes.

 

“Emma?”

 

She freezes at her name being called. She is in the middle of an unknown forest. She just assumed she was alone.

 

“Emma?” the voice repeats, getting closer and more distinguishable now.

 

“Regina?” Emma calls out, turning around just as Regina appears from behind some trees.

 

Regina stops, a quiet, “oh,” slipping past her lips as she takes in Emma’s lack of clothing and realizes what is going on.

 

“Hi,” Emma gives her an awkward half wave even as the tears clinging to the corners of her eyes spill over against her will, making her feel even more idiotic.

 

Regina doesn't hesitate then, closing the distance between them in quick sure steps, and wrapping Emma up in a tight hug, not deterred at all by her current lack of clothing. “What's wrong, darling?” she asks kissing the side of Emma's head.

 

Emma shrugs, sniffling, as she hides her face in Regina’s shoulder. “Nothing, really. It’s dumb.”

 

“I'm sure it isn't.” Another kiss is placed to the side of Emma's head. “Tell me.”

 

“It’s just… I'm missing Henry's school play. I miss everything.” She feels silly explaining it out loud - Regina must think she's ridiculous for crying over this.

 

“I remember that play,” Regina muses. “Henry was Zazu.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma mumbles into Regina’s shoulder, feeling slightly less sheepish because there is no judgement in Regina’s voice, only understanding.

 

“I'm sorry you didn't, _don’t_ , get to be there the way you want to be.” Regina runs her hand along Emma's back soothingly, sounding genuinely apologetic, like she really does understand the source of Emma's frustration and sorrow.

 

Emma lifts her head, freeing one of her arms so that she can wipe away the remnants of the tears from her cheeks. “Oh well,” she sighs. “It's not like I can do much about it.”

 

“No, unfortunately not,” Regina agrees. Kissing the side of Emma's head one last time before releasing her from the hug. She waves her hand and magic fills the air for a moment and then Emma is clothed.

 

“Thanks.” Emma gives her a half smile in appreciation.

 

Regina nods in acknowledgment. “ _Now_ ,” she says, “it might not compete with a school play, but I do have something you might like.”

 

That piques Emma's curiosity and she can't help but perk up. “What is it?”

 

Regina laughs at the reaction. “Come on, I'll show you.”

 

Emma follows Regina back in the direction she'd come from before. It doesn't take them long to get where they're going - a small clearing where a table and two chairs are set up, complete with fancy table cloth, real plates filled with delicious looking food, and candles. The best part though is the twinkling lights floating magically in the air.

 

“What is this?” she asks, in awe.

 

“An anniversary present.” Regina smiles fondly.

 

Emma tilts her head at that. “It's our anniversary today?”

 

“Yes,” Regina confirms, still smiling. “Our third.”

 

Emma blinks slowly, taking that in, as she stares up at the magically floating lights. “And this is what you got me?”

 

“No. This is what you got _me_ ,” Regina clarifies, sounding amused at Emma's mistake.

 

“Really?” Emma can't help the way her eyes widen in surprise. It's not that she isn't romantic per say - she does buy flowers randomly just  because she likes the way they make Regina’s eyes light up - it's just that she's not sure how she would even go about pulling this off. “How'd I do _that_?” she motions upwards to the floating lights - Emma's magic is still mostly reactive no matter how many lessons Regina tries to give her.

 

Regina still looks amused. “I'm actually not sure. You must have been practicing your magic.”

 

“Hmm,” Emma says to that - she’s impressed with her future self. “Wait,” she realizes suddenly, “If I planned this, why are you here alone?”

 

“Time travel,” Regina explains, not needing to clarify that any further. “Just before I heard you yelling.”

 

“Glad to see I still miss everything,” Emma spits out sarcastically, her improved mood dampening just like that.

 

Regina reaches out and puts her hand on Emma's shoulder. Her eyes are filled with understanding but her words are firm, “You're _not_ missing this. You're right here.”

 

“Not the _right_ me.” Emma can't stop herself from protesting.

 

Regina’s hand leaves Emma's shoulder, reaching up to tuck hair behind her ear instead. “There is just one you. You are always the right you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Emma grumbles concedingly - this isn't the first time she's heard Regina say that and she knows there's no point arguing. She reaches for the hand still lingering near her face and brings it to her mouth, pressing a kiss into Regina’s palm, before lowering their hands and linking their fingers together. “Are we gonna eat that food or what? I'm starving.”

 

Regina laughs, high and bright. “Of course you are.”

 

xxxxxx

 

They eat dinner and dessert and drink most of a bottle of wine and Emma feels lighter than she has in a while when they bring the remainder of the bottle of wine over to the blanket spread out near by - her future self has thought of everything, apparently.

 

They end up lying side by side on the blanket, sides pressed together, Regina’s head on Emma shoulder. Looking up at the floating lights from this position makes them seem like stars and Emma can't stop smiling. “Thanks for this,” she murmurs.

 

“For what?”

 

“For making me feel better. For letting me share this night with you.”

 

Regina shifts onto her side, propping herself up so that she can see Emma's face, can look directly into her eyes. “I want to share every night with you.”

 

“Me too. I hate that I don't get to. Being a time traveler is just… I hate it.” Emma bites her lip.

 

Regina touches her fingertips to Emma's cheek, stroking gently, soothingly. “I know, I'm sorry.”

 

“No, I _am_. Sorry, I mean. I shouldn’t complain. It's not as if I’m the only one affected.” She sighs.

 

“No, you aren't the only one affected,” Regina agrees, her fingers brushing Emma's cheek again, “But you are the _most_ affected and voicing how you feel about that isn't complaining. You can always talk to me about how you're feeling, you must know that.”

 

“I just wish… I just wish I could stick in my own time more, you know? Missing things is just so frustrating.”

 

Regina eyes are filled with such warmth as she stares down at Emma. “I wish that for you too. Even if uttering the words _I wish_ in Storybrooke is generally a terrible idea.” It's both soft and teasing and somehow exactly what Emma needs - Regina always seems to know what she needs.

 

Emma laughs, shaking her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You're perfect, you realize that?”

 

“I really am not, dear." Regina shakes her head at the implication.

 

“For me. You're perfect for me,” Emma changes the wording of it but only just slightly. “I love you so much.”

 

“I love you too.” Regina echoes and she dips her head to press her lips to Emma's.

 

Emma moans, reaching up to tangle a hand in Regina’s hair. She deepens the kiss, sliding her tongue across Regina’s bottom lip and into her mouth, as her other hand slips under Regina’s shirt to splay across the bare skin of her back.

 

“Wait,” Emma says, nuzzling into Regina’s neck when they part for air. “Is this cheating?”

 

Regina laughs lightly. “Emma, we're married. To each other.”

 

“True.” Emma hums, pressing kisses to Regina’s pulse point.

 

“Hey,” Regina stops her, guiding her chin up so that she can see her eyes when she says what she does next. “If you're not comfortable, we can stop.”

 

“I don't want to stop,” Emma says firmly, certainly, voice deep and filled with desire, and the way Regina’s eyes darken at that leaves Emma's mouth dry.

 

“Good.” Regina’s tongue darts out to lick her lips and then she's dipping forward to kiss Emma once more.

 

xxxxxx

 

Somehow, inexplicably, Emma gets her wish.

 

One month passes, and then two, without a single trip out of her own time.

 

“I don't know what's going on,” she tells Regina, “But I'm not gonna jinx it by trying to sort it out.”

 

Regina looks like maybe _she_ wants to try and sort it out but she lets Emma kiss her worry away instead.

 

It's during the third month that she throws up her breakfast one morning, and then the bear claw she has at the station. She thinks nothing of it, until the same thing happens again the next day, and the day after, and she realizes with a sinking feeling that she hasn't her period in awhile.

 

She thinks about getting a pregnancy test. But that's _ridiculous_ \- she can't be pregnant, it's not possible.

 

She can't stop thinking about it though. It leaves her on edge all day, enough so that she is visibly agitated by the time she and Regina are cooking dinner together that night.

 

“What's wrong?” Regina finally asks, eyeing Emma with concern.

 

“Nothing,” Emma says too quickly, continuing to chop vegetables for stir fry a little too aggressively.

 

Regina sighs but she doesn't push, just keeps carefully slicing the carrots on her own cutting board.

 

“Can I ask you kind of a weird question?” Emma says eventually, setting her knife down when the silence between them has extended for minutes.

 

Regina looks up curiously, nodding. She follows Emma's lead and sets her knife down too.

 

“Can magic make a baby?” Emma tries to make the question casual but it comes out rushed and decidedly not casual.

 

Regina’s brow knits together, her lips pursuing as she studies Emma for a really long moment. “Do you want to have a baby?”

 

Emma’s eyes widen at that. “No. I mean, uhhh… not no? Maybe? I don’t know. But that's not what I meant. Umm…”

 

Regina saves her, ending the rambling string of words before she makes even more of a fool of herself. “Emma, take a breath. What were you trying to ask?”

 

Emma does as instructed, breathing in and out once, and then a second time just to be on the safe side, before she tries again, “Just, like, if two people have magic, could they make a baby from it? Is that _theoretically_ possible?”

 

Regina still looks not completely certain of Emma's intentions, but she answers carefully, “Theoretically, yes. If the circumstances are right and they share true love.”

 

At the confirmation that it’s possible, Emma’s heart rate increases. “What makes the circumstances right?”

 

Regina’s face turns into squinty concentration, and Emma knows she's trying to recall something. “I'm not sure, exactly. I believe the saying was true love, a full moon, and magic in the air.”

 

At _magic in the air_ Emma’s brain brings forward an image of floating lights in a forest and she nearly gulps. Her heart is thumping so hard now that she can hear it in her ears. She runs her hand through her hair. “Okay, so, uhhh, here's the thing, we should probably get a pregnancy test?”

 

Regina’s eyes get so comically wide at that, that Emma can't help the laughter that bubbles out of her chest - this whole situation is just absurd.

 

The laughter isn't exactly well received. “Is this your idea of a joke, Emma?”

 

“No, _no_ ,” Emma shakes her head, sobering. “Sorry, your expressions was just…” she widens her own eyes to mimic it. She swallows thickly, shaking her head again, “I wasn't joking.”

 

Regina rubs her forehead, blinking slowly. “Alright, why do you think we need a pregnancy test?” She sounds hesitant, uncertain, but willing to listen.

 

“You know I haven't travelled in more than two months. And when I was pregnant with Henry I didn't travel at all,” Emma explains, leaning against the counter, feeling like she needs the support.

 

Regina seems to consider that a moment. “That still doesn't explain why you think we need a pregnancy test.” And she's right, of course, it doesn't.

 

“Okay, so,” Emma starts, feeling a little nervous even though she knows she doesn't need to be. “Remember when I travelled just before Henry's school play?” She waits for Regina to nod to continue. “It was to the future. And I was upset and you made me feel better. And then one thing led to another and…” she shrugs. “And it’s just, there _was_ magic in air, kind of? And now I haven't time travelled in a while. And I haven't had my period either. And I’ve puked like six times this week. And it sounds crazy but-”

 

“ _Okay_ ,” Regina cuts her off.

 

“Okay?” Emma repeats, unsure what that means. She eyes Regina a little worriedly, unable to really gauge her reaction.

 

Regina smiles then in the most reassuring of ways and Emma breathes out in relief.

 

“Okay, let's get a pregnancy test.”

 

xxxxxx

 

They get the pregnancy test from Sneezy’s pharmacy. Regina threatens to revoke his business license if he mentions their purchase to _anyone_ \- the last thing they need right now is an over enthusiastic Snow turning up on their doorstep.

 

Emma takes the test and then they sit side by on the edge of the bed to wait for the results, Emma's hand clasped tightly in Regina’s.

 

When enough minutes have past, Emma swallows thickly. “Do you, umm… do you want to check?” She's not sure why she's so nervous but the way her heart is fluttering too rapidly tells her that she very much is.

 

“Okay,” Regina agrees and Emma can feel her hand trembling, so maybe she isn't the only one who is nervous.

 

Regina squeezes Emma's hand once before she let's go, standing and walking into the ensuite bathroom with purposeful steps. She's only in there a moment before she emerges, face pale, looking shocked, and Emma bites her lip in anticipation of whatever the news will be.

 

“It's positive.”

 

Emma blinks once, twice, a third time, trying to convince herself she hadn't misheard. “Really?”

 

Regina nods, tears welling up in her eyes.

 

Emma springs from the bed and closes the distance between them in less than a second. She wraps her arms around Regina, pulling her into a hug, comforting her. Her first instinct is _always_ to comfort Regina, even when her own heart is sinking. “Hey, hey, it'll be okay,” she says even though she's not sure how. She hadn't considered that Regina might not _want_ this, might not want to have a baby with her. She doesn't know what she'll do if that's true. She thinks she'll be devastated.

 

“They're happy tears, Emma,” Regina murmurs, pulling back enough to see Emma’s face, a hand reaching up, her thumb tracing Emma's jawline, her eyes filled with understanding, like she knows exactly what Emma is thinking. “Did you think I wouldn't be happy?”

 

“I… I don't know,” Emma admits, feeling sheepish even though she doesn't know why. She thinks it’s because she should have known better than to doubt - the problem is, her whole life has involved the bottom falling out from under her repeatedly, and being loved now doesn't really change that, doesn't really change her instinct to brace herself for the worst, even if she wishes it would - maybe someday she'll get there. “It's not like we've talked about this. I didn't even know _this_ was possible.”

 

Regina’s eyes are soft, still filled with the kind of knowing that makes Emma feel understood, feel _seen_. “I'm happy,” she says and it's so sure, so firm, that it leaves no room for doubt. “Are you?”

 

All Emma can do is nod, her turn for tears to well in her eyes - tears that Regina wipes away before she kisses her, soft and slow and filled with love.

 

“I never thought the things I only dreamed about could come true. And, yet, here we are,” Regina admits, her forehead resting against Emma’s.

 

“We're having a baby,” Emma whispers - it still feels surreal.

 

“We are.” Regina smiles then, wide and filled with hope and affection and love.

 

“I love you,” Emma says, pressing her lips back to Regina’s in another gentle kiss.

 

xxxxxx

 

They tell Henry that same night. He is thrilled, even if his first reaction is to scrunch up his nose and plead, “Don't tell me _how_.”

 

"Is _this_ what you saw?" He asks with twinkling eyes after he's managed to unscrunch his face - it's become his way of expressing happiness with a moment.

 

"Something like it," Emma smiles, her favourite response even now that they've moved past the actual moment she'd visited that first night in Storybrooke.

 

What follows are some of the happiest months of Emma's life. The last time she'd gone this long without travelling she'd been alone and in prison - now she is surrounded by people who love her, who she loves, and every day she wakes up grateful, happy. The future self that had visited her had been right - _this_ is better than anything she could ever have imagined.

 

Her water breaks a Saturday afternoon two weeks before her due date - Regina rushes her out of the house in such a whirlwind of panic that they forget both the bag they'd packed _and_ Henry.

 

"Forget something?" Henry smirks when he shows up at the hospital twenty minutes later with the bag and his grandparents.

 

Regina's horrified expression only makes Emma laugh - until a contraction hits and she's gritting her teeth in pain instead.

 

Labour seems to last forever but finally, finally, it's almost time to push.

 

"I wish you were here when it was Henry," Emma murmurs as Regina squeezes her hand and wipes her sweaty brow.

 

"Me too," Regina hums, kissing the top of Emma's head. "But I'm here now."

 

When the baby's first cries fill the room, they both cry too.

 

Regina holds her first, bundles her up in her arms and coos down at her, "Hello, sweetheart, I'm your Mama, yes I am, and I love you," as she carries her over to Emma, places her on Emma's chest, kisses the top of the baby's head, and then the top of Emma's.

 

Emma is mesmerized by the baby, whose hair is dark like Regina's. " _Hi_ ," she breathes out, new tears spilling out of the corner of her eyes, her heart expanding as she watches this tiny little baby who is _theirs_.

 

The peaceful moment is interrupted though by the sudden, horrifying appearance, of an Emma writhing in pain, an Emma covered in blood, an Emma they'd seen once before.

 

Emma had sort of forgotten about that, forgotten about a future where she is _shot_ , _bleeding_ , maybe _dying_.

 

Regina doesn't even make it to the end of the bed before that Emma is gone again. Her terrified eyes turn back to the Emma that is still here.

 

And just like last time this happened, Emma feels an unmistakable tug in the centre of her chest. "No, no. Take the baby, take baby," she panics.

 

Regina doesn't need to be told twice, the panic in her eyes matches the panic in Emma's voice, and she surges back towards the hospital bed.

 

The baby is transferred into Regina's arms and then Emma is gone.

 

xxxxxx

 

She's both angry and relieved when she appears in the master bedroom of the manor. Angry that time has stolen her away so quickly (she'd gotten three whole weeks after Henry’s birth) and relieved that, at least, it has brought her _here_ \- to her home, a place (the only place, really) she always feels safe.

 

“Emma?”

 

At her name, Emma spins around to find Regina sitting on the bed, pillows behind her back, propped up against the headboard, reading a book.

 

Seeing Emma's face, Regina frowns. “You look exhausted.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma agrees, not sure what else to say. She _feels_ exhausted. And a little like she might cry.

 

Regina's frown deepens at the emotion she must see on Emma's face. She pulls back the covers on Emma's side of the bed, and pats her hand on the empty space. "Come here and lie down, darling."

 

Emma doesn't need to be told twice, she pulls a pair of pajamas on and slips into the space beside Regina, curling into her. She rests her head on Regina's chest and sighs softly in a mixture of relief and contentment as Regina's fingers work their way through her hair, scratching at her scalp, without saying a word.

 

Emma is thankful for the lack of questions - not that she's surprised, Regina always seems to know what she needs and right now that's _this_ , quiet comfort. She doesn't want to talk about, or think about, what she's just left behind - about a future version of herself shot, or Regina's terrified eyes, or a newborn baby she'd barely gotten a chance to hold.

 

Their conformable silence is eventually broken by a sudden sharp wail coming from down the hall.

 

“Oh,” Emma's eyes widen in surprise, sitting up, as Regina's hands slip from her hair. “Is that...” she trails off realizing she doesn't know their baby's name - even though surely their daughter must have a name by now, _whenever_ now actually is.

 

Regina doesn’t seem to catch Emma's inability to fill in the blank, or maybe she just doesn’t care. “I’ll go get her,” Regina says, already slipping out of the bed. “ _You,_ stay here, you need rest."

 

There is no protest on Emma's part.

 

Regina isn't gone long, returning with a bundle in her arms, and settling back beside Emma in the bed.

 

Emma can't help but crane her neck to get a better look at the baby. The shock of dark hair she was born with has grown, and it lies in a pile of ringlets on top of her head. "She's so big."

 

"Six months." Regina laughs lightly and adjusts the baby so that Emma can see her better. “Say hi to Mommy, Hope,” she coos.

 

"Wait. Hope?" Emma's brow wrinkles. "That's her name?"

 

Regina laughs again, seemingly amused by Emma's confusion. "I'm fairly certain your mother named her."

 

" _Hope_ ," Emma repeats, softer now, the fondness and love she feels impossible to stop as she smiles down at their daughter, fingers reaching out to brush her cheek, fingers that are fading, she realizes.

 

The last thing she sees before she's being pulled away are Hope's dark eyes staring up at her.

 

xxxxxx

 

"Oh thank god," Regina says when Emma reappears in the hospital room.

 

" _Gah_ ," Henry screeches from his seat in a chair in the corner of the room, lifting the baby he's holding up high enough to comically cover his eyes.

 

Regina waves her hand, magic enveloping Emma, clothing her in a clean set of pajamas.

 

"All clear, kid," Emma laughs.

 

Henry lowers the baby and grins at her, "Hi, Ma."

 

Regina isn't smiling though, she's a little too pale, and her hands are clenched tightly. "You should lie down."

 

Emma ignores that instruction. She just closes the gap between herself and Regina and folds her into a hug - her arms wrapping tightly around Regina's back, their bodies pressed close enough for Emma to feel how hard she's trembling. "I'm okay," Emma murmurs quietly, knowing exactly where this reaction is coming from. She rubs Regina's back and presses a kiss into her hair. "It's okay."

 

When Regina pulls back there are tears shimmering in her eyes but she ignores them, instead repeating her previous instruction even more firmly, "You should lie down."

 

Emma doesn't protest this time, she's wiped out and the time travelling hasn't helped at all. She let's Regina fuss around her, adjusting the pillows and pulling the blankets up around her.

 

"Come here, kid," Emma calls once Regina is done fussing. "I want to snuggle both my babies."

 

Henry predictably rolls his eyes like the thirteen year old that he is, not wanting to look too keen about _snuggling_ , but he wastes little time following the request, letting Regina take the baby and transfer her to Emma, while he climbs up on the bed, leaning into her side and resting his head on her shoulder.

 

"You too," Emma says to Regina, even though fitting three people across on a single hospital is quite impossible.

 

Regina smiles and perches on the end of the bed instead, placing a hand on Emma's leg through the blanket and squeezing gently.

 

"So," Emma grins slowly, looking down at the baby in her arms and then back up at Regina. "Want to know her name?"

 

Regina quirks a curious eyebrow at that. "Oh. Did you finally pick one?" They'd debated many names but never really settled on one they liked and, eventually, Regina had insisted that Emma just be the one to pick - she'd already gotten to choose one of their children's names after all.

 

"Sort of," Emma shrugs.

 

Regina's head tilts, confusion clouding her vision for only a moment before she understands. "You've been in the future."

 

"Mmhm," Emma grins, looking down at the baby in her arms, bouncing her gently, "And your name is Hope, isn't it sweetheart?"

 

" _Hope_?" Regina repeats, uncertainly, like maybe she thinks she misheard.

 

Emma looks up at her, nodding her confirmation.

 

Regina's brow crinkles much the same way that Emma's had when she first heard the name. "Did we let your mother name her?"

 

Emma laughs and, when Regina narrows her eyes, she shrugs not even a little apologetic. "That's _exactly_ what you said in the future, it's funny, okay?"

 

Regina still looks unimpressed but there's a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

 

"Well, I like it," Henry declares, grinning.

 

Emma laughs again, happily. "I kind of figured you would."

 

"Hope," Regina says and this time there's no disbelief in her voice, just softness. The hand that is resting on Emma's leg squeezing gently. "Hope and Henry does have a nice ring to it." She smiles, her eyes shining with love and affection.

 

"Yeah," Emma agrees, smiling too, her eyes lingering on Regina's, her heart swelling. Henry, Hope, Regina, and Emma - they are a _family_ of four now. It's more than Emma could have ever dreamed of. She feels complete.

 

xxxxxx

 

Adjusting to time travelling again after so many months of not is difficult, _really_ difficult. But Emma manages, they _all_ manage, and those first months of Hope's life are happy ones, _really_ happy ones. Even if deep down there is a worry that Emma can't quite shake no matter how much she suppresses it, a fear that comes from having seen a future version of herself shot twice now.

 

Regina tries to bring that up once, in that first week after Hope is born, but Emma side steps that conversation entirely - it's easier to pretend it hadn't happened at all, easier to pretend it doesn't scare her.

 

Emma is good at pretending things don't bother her. Or she is until she travels to the future, to a party set up on the beach near Henry’s castle to celebrate Hope's fourth birthday, a party where Hope slams into her, little arms wrapping around Emma's legs, as she shrieks, gleeful, “You're here!”

 

“I am,” Emma confirms, uncertainly.

 

"Mommy said you was coming to my birthday," Hope beams, "And you did!"

 

Emma's brow creases at that, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach forming. "Aren't I usually here for your birthday?"

 

" _Nuh-uh_ ," Hope shakes her head back and forth, her dark curls flinging wildly from side to side in response to the action. "Not ever." Hope grins up at her then, her eyes bright. She unwraps her arms from around Emma's waist to take her hand, tugging insistently. "Come see my cake!"

 

Emma lets herself be lead by the exuberant child and tries to ignore the sinking feeling that grows in the pit of her stomach as she contemplates why exactly it is she’s never been to a single one of her daughter’s birthdays.

 

xxxxxx

 

Things get difficult after that.

 

There is no more ignoring, suppressing, pushing aside, her fear of what those appearances of a shot version of her future self means. She dwells in that fear. Dwells in visions of a future she has no part in. She withdraws from everyone, Regina especially.

 

Regina allows it at first but after two weeks that patience wears out. She brings it up while they're doing the dishes, standing side by side at the sink in silence one night.

 

“Alright, enough," Regina says, setting the tea towel down on the counter. "What is going on?”

 

“Nothing," Emma says immediately. It's too quick. Too sharp. And she stares intently into the soapy water and hopes Regina will just drop it.

 

“Emma.” It's a sigh.

 

“I’m _fine_ ," Emma insists, even though it's still far too sharp to be believable.

 

There's a pause, a moment of hesitation where Emma wonders if Regina really will drop it.

 

“You’re not a very good of a liar," is what Regina finally says. She sounds tired, or maybe just weary. She reaches out and settles a hand on Emma's shoulder, her thumb rubbing gently against bare skin near the hem of Emma's shirt. "Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

Emma still can't bring herself to look away from the soapy water - she's sure if she sees the worry in Regina's eyes, the love, she'll cave. “It’s not something you need to be worrying about.”

 

Regina's thumb continues to brush against Emma's skin in a gentle rhythm - back and forth and back and forth. “Why don’t you let me decide what I need to worry about?"

 

“ _Regina_ ," Emma sighs but she doesn't pull away.

 

“Whatever you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone." It's gentle and understanding but firm, leaving no room for debate - she expects an answer.

 

Emma doesn't know how to say it, doesn't know how to speak out loud the words that have repeated on loop in her head the last two weeks. She finally draws her eyes away from the sink, looking up and into warm brown eyes filled with the concern and love she'd known to expect. Moisture floods her own eyes, tears that shimmer in her vision and threaten to spill over but that she manages to hold back.

 

"Whatever it is, you can trust me with it," Regina murmurs.

 

“I’m going to die." It's a whisper, barely audible.

 

Regina's eyes widen, the sudden flash of fear in them exactly what Emma was trying to avoid. "What?" it's a plea as much as it's a question - a plea to be told she's misheard.

 

Emma swallows thickly before she explains in monotone, “I was at Hope’s fourth birthday. The first birthday of hers I was _ever_ at, apparently. And we’ve seen the me that’s shot. The pieces fit together. I’m going to die.”

 

Regina's eyes are still wide, afraid. The hand that had been settled on Emma's shoulder, lifts to gently tuck hair behind Emma's ear before dropping to her side. “You don’t know that that’s true.”

 

Emma wants to agree, but she can't. “You don’t know that it’s not.”

 

Regina's jaw sets then, her lips pursing a moment, before she snaps, “So what? Your grand plan is to just ignore us all in the meantime? Throw away whatever time we have left together? What kind of sense does that make?”

 

Despite the sharpness in her voice, Emma knows that Regina isn't really angry, just afraid. She sighs, her shoulders slumping as she tries to explain, “I don’t want to hurt any of you. I just want it to be easier. For Hope not to get too attached. And for you and Henry… to be ready.”

 

“Fuck that," Regina hisses, her jaw still set, her eyes flashing what might actually be anger now.

 

Emma flinches at that reaction and she opens her mouth once, twice, a third time as she tries to sort out what to say. “...What?”

 

“You heard me. Fuck that, Emma." Regina's eyes are filled with a kind of fierce determination now. "You think you’re being noble? You think withdrawing from us is _helping_ us? Believe me, it’s not. You’re just _running_. And I’m not going to let you.”

 

“Regina, I…” Emma starts but then stops, at a complete loss.

 

“You aren’t alone anymore, Emma," Regina says and it's still fierce, but there's a softness there too, an understanding. "That means you’re not supposed to face things alone.”

 

Emma can feel her hands trembling and she balls them into fists as she admits quietly, “I’m scared.”

 

Regina doesn't hesitate then, she wraps her arms around Emma and pulls her into a hug. “I know, darling," she murmurs in her ear, kissing the side of her head, "I am too.”

 

They cling tightly to each other for minutes that melt together. When they finally part, there are tears in both their eyes.

 

“We’re going to sort this out," Regina says and there is so much determination in her voice despite her still watery eyes. "I'll find a solution. Some way to keep you from time traveling. I’m not losing you.”

 

Emma reaches for her hand, laces their fingers together and squeezes tightly. She wants to leave it be, wants to let Regina have some hope, but she just can't - she knows they need to be realistic. “But what if you can't? What if you do lose me?”

 

Regina swallows thickly and Emma can see in her eyes that she knows that Emma is right. Still, her voice remains determined, strong, despite the way her hand trembles in Emma's. “Then we need to make the most of whatever time we do have. I’m not losing you before you’re actually gone. That’s not an option.”

 

Emma blinks slowly but she nods, offering Regina a small smile, "Okay." She can do that, for Regina she can do that.

 

And she _does_. They both do.

 

Regina looks for a solution and doesn’t ever find one. And they go about their life and pretend that it might not all end at any minute. It's not easy, they both have moments of desolation, nights where they hold each other and cry about what they might lose at any minute, about the unfairness of it all. But more often than not, especially as time passes, fear takes a backseat to happiness, takes a backseat to love.

 

xxxxxx

 

Emma misses Hope’s first birthday. Time travel is to blame. Not death. It's the first time she's ever been relieved, not angry, to have an important moment stolen from her by time.

 

Hope walks shortly thereafter and Emma muses wistfully that she’d always sort of hoped she’d travel back to when Henry was a toddler and get to see some of his milestones. Regina’s eyes light up instantly.

 

“What?” Emma wonders.

 

“You never time travel to the curse years," Regina says like that's important and not just a fact.

 

"...yeah?" Emma answers, uncertain about where exactly she is going with this.

 

"That's odd." Regina still sounds like she sees something Emma doesn't.

 

Emma frowns, trying to sort out what she's missing but coming up short of any answer. "There's lots of places, _times_ , I don't travel to. All those years in the Enchanted Forest you spent without any visits."

 

"But in the Enchanted Forest, I moved away from the hot spot." There's something close to eagerness in Regina's reply.

 

All Emma can do is frown deeper. "Hot spot?"

 

"You told me once that certain places hold more gravity," Regina explains her reasoning. "I've thought about that a lot. About where your hot spots are. That meadow near my childhood home was one. This house is another. I moved away from the meadow and I think that's mostly why your trips to the Enchanted Forest stopped. But I've never left this house. I've always been here, yet for some reason you don't ever travel to the curse years."

 

Emma finally understands. "You think the curse stops time travel?"

 

"Yes." Regina nods eagerly, eyes serious and tinged with hope.

 

For some reason that makes Emma laugh, an odd sort of chuckle bubbling out of her chest. “You want to re-curse everyone?”

 

Regina rolls her eyes, the corners of her mouth tugging into a smile. “Of course not. I just think there's a real solution there. One I never considered in my previous research."

 

She looks so hopeful, so happy with the possibility of it, that Emma just nods, ignoring the twisting in her gut that reminds her there is no real solution - there can't be, they've already seen shot Emma, whatever is going to happen, is going to happen. She's not going to crush Regina's hope today though. She just smiles. "Maybe you're right," she says, leaning over to kiss Regina before she can question the _maybe_.

 

xxxxxx

 

It takes Regina a month but one afternoon she appears at the sheriff's station, declaring triumphantly, "I figured it out."

 

Emma frowns, uncertain about what she means.

 

"How to manipulate the curse, so that no one is actually _cursed_ again, but so that you can't time travel. You won't ever have to leave here, leave our time, again." Regina is smiling, her eyes filled with eagerness and hope, hope that flickers when Emma doesn't smile back. "What's wrong?"

 

Emma had sort of hoped that Regina wouldn't ever find a solution, that she would never have to be the one to crush her. She shrugs now, stalling.

 

"Emma?" Regina prods.

 

Emma sighs. "We can't."

 

It's Regina's turn to frown. "Why not?"

 

"Well, for starters, we haven't even conceived Hope yet, technically? Sort of?" Emma shrugs, a little sheepish.

 

"So, after that, then," Regina says, like she still doesn't really get where Emma is coming from.

 

Emma sighs, wrapping her arms around herself.  "Regina, remember when you said I couldn't tell your younger self about the future because changing events isn't actually possible?"

 

Regina frowns but Emma sees the recognition in her eyes, sees that she understands exactly what Emma isn't saying - they've already seen her shot, which means it's too late. Her desperation to save Emma is likely the only reason she hadn't considered that before. "So _what_?" She says and it's sharp, loud. "I'm just supposed to let you get shot? I'm just supposed to let you die?"

 

Emma wraps her arms even tighter around herself, feeling like she needs the support. "Don't be mad at me," she mumbles, hating how pathetic she sounds.

 

Regina's eyes flash, not with anger, with frustration but also understanding. "You think I'm mad at _you_?"

 

All Emma can do is shrug.

 

"Fucking fate," Regina hisses, closing the distance between them and gently uncurling Emma's arms from around herself, taking both her hands into her own and squeezing tightly. "What's the point of any of this, if I can't save you?"

 

Emma swallows thickly, let's the feeling of Regina hands in her own ground her. "Maybe… maybe we're wrong. Maybe I'm not going to die at all."

 

Regina blinks slowly. "Maybe," she concedes, offering Emma a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

 

Emma's not sure either of them believe it but she squeezes Regina's hands and does a better job of smiling. "Yeah, maybe," she repeats, it's a stronger assertion this time - a wish.

 

xxxxxx

 

The next time Emma time travels, it's to the future.

 

She stands in the kitchen and looks out the window to the backyard in confusion. Hope is four or maybe five and kicking around a soccer ball with a boy with dark hair who can't be more than ten.

 

The boy looks up and catches her eyes through the window. He smiles and waves before turning his attention back to Hope.

 

"Who is that?" Emma asks when Henry comes into the kitchen a moment later.

 

Henry, at least seventeen and as tall as her, stands beside her, peering out the window to see what she's looking out. He smiles. "My brother."

 

Emma's eyes widen in surprise and she looks over at Henry curiously, "Really?"

 

"Yep," Henry grins wider, his eyes twinkling like he knows something Emma doesn't - which _clearly_ he does. "Thanks to you."

 

Emma is still a bit in shock. "Me?"

 

Henry's expression changes, sobering somewhat. "You're gonna save him."

 

That has Emma's eyes widening again but she's gone before she can ask him anything else.

 

xxxxxx

 

"I know why now," she tells Regina that night when they're lying in bed.

 

"Why what?" It's too dark to see Regina's face but Emma can tell she's frowning.

 

"Why you don't cast the spell to stop me from time travelling."

 

There's a hitch of breath before a quiet, "Why?"

 

Emma's heart thumps loudly in her chest as she explains what she now knows. "There's a boy." She pictures his dark hair, his serious eyes as he looked at her through the window and smiled at her. "Our son. Not Henry, another child. I need to save him."

 

"We're going to have another child?" It's a surprised whisper.

 

"Yes."

 

When a minute passes and Regina still hasn't said anything else, Emma reaches out tentatively, finding Regina's hand in the dark. "Regina?"

 

"What am I supposed to say, Emma?" It's not angry, or harsh, it's filled with pain.

 

Emma squeezes Regina's hand tightly, like a lifeline. "That you understand."

 

There's a moment of hesitation but eventually Regina quietly confirms, "I understand," and Emma knows that she does - they would both give up anything if it meant keeping Henry or Hope safe, of course the same feeling would extend to a child they haven't quite met yet. It doesn't make anything easier though.

 

Regina rolls over, pressing her face into the crook of Emma's neck. Emma wraps her arms around her and holds her while she cries.

 

xxxxxxxx

 

More time passes.

 

At first every day they get together feels like a day they've stolen. But somehow, with each passing day, the inevitable end they'd once feared as _soon_ feels less and less certain. A distant future they might have been wrong about. It gets easier to just live, to be happy.

 

Emma misses Hope’s second and third birthdays, the same way she'd missed her first - due to time travel. And on the eve of Hope’s 4th birthday, Emma is the _mommy_ who gets to promise her that she'll be there tomorrow.

 

While her past self is getting to experience Hope's birthday for the first time, Emma finds herself in the Enchanted Forest - for once not arriving in the meadow near Regina's childhood home, instead appearing in a tower.

 

Regina is an adult. She isn't wearing any makeup and it makes her look young but Emma thinks she's probably not much older than she'd been the night Emma brought Henry home.

 

Emma snatches up a blanket off a cot to wrap around herself as Regina watches her with pursed lips. "Umm… hi?" Emma says.

 

"What are _you_ doing here?"

 

Emma thinks Regina meant for that to come out as a hiss but it doesn't quite have bite, she just seems tired. Emma shrugs. "Who ever knows?" She looks around the room, taking it in better, and noticing the bars. "Are you in jail?" she asks, surprised.

 

"As if you care." Regina manages something closer to a hiss this time, hands balling into fists.

 

Emma frowns. "Of course I care," she says even though she realizes that for _this_ Regina there is nothing _of course_ about that.

 

Regina's eyes narrow but if she wants clarification, wants answers of any kind, she doesn't ask for them.

 

"Look," Emma says. "I know this seems impossible to believe right now, and I know you haven't seen me in forever so you probably don't trust me at all, but I swear it's going to be okay. You're going to fine. Better than fine. Happy. I swear."

 

"You're right," Regina says, "I don't trust you at all." Despite her words, there's something longing in Regina's expression as she stares at Emma.

 

The last imagine Emma sees before time steals her away again is of Regina, arms wrapped around herself, looking far more vulnerable than she'd probably like.

 

xxxxxx

 

"It might be any time now," Emma tells Regina back in her own time.

 

Even though years have past, and they haven't talked about it in quite awhile, Regina doesn't need any clarification at all on what _any time now_ means - the way her face pales makes that clear. "How do you know?"

 

Emma runs her hand through her hair. "I've been checking off the entries in your diary every time I visit your past. I finally checked off the last one."

 

Regina's expression is hard to read and all she says is, "okay."

 

"It was actually the final entry in the diary." Emma adds. It feels a little forced, a little like making small talk, but she's not sure what else to do.

 

Regina quirks an eyebrow at that. "I was wondering when you might go there."

 

"You never told me you were in _jail_." Emma says it like it's scandalous, waggling her eyebrows.

 

She's not sure it will land quite right - there's something about joking when they're in the middle of a conversation about the inevitable end that is a little askew but Regina rolls her eyes and shoves Emma's arm playfully and says, "You're ridiculous," and Emma let's out the breath she's holding and grins at her.

 

Regina shakes her head but she smiles too.

 

That lightness can't last forever though and, after a beat, Regina sobers. "You know," she says, "After you left that day, I was so angry, and I tried so hard to fight fate."

 

Emma tilts her head, curious. "How?"

 

"I tried to get myself killed. Refused to apologize. Antagonized everyone."

 

Emma's eyes widen even though she's sort of not really surprised. She makes a face, scrunching up her nose, "Well I'm glad it didn't work."

 

Regina laughs lightly. "Me too, darling. Me too." She moves forward and circles an arm around Emma's waist, kissing her cheek, as heaviness settles over them once more. "I love you."

 

Emma rests her forehead against Regina's, staring into her eyes. "I love you too. Always. No matter what happens next."

 

"No matter what," Regina echoes, a soft murmur filled with both trepidation and love.

 

xxxxxx

 

_Any time now_ takes three more months.

 

She appears in the forest, somewhere near where they'd had that anniversary dinner, she thinks.

 

She isn't alone. A future version of herself is there. As is the boy with the dark hair - the boy who will be her son.

 

"Just come home, no one is angry, Ry," her future self is saying, while the boy stands watching her with serious eyes.

 

They both turn at the sound of Emma appearing, the boy - _Ry_ \- covering his eyes, while her future self just flicks her wrist and clothes Emma.

 

"Hi?" Emma says, a little stunned by the circumstances. It's so rare to be in the same time as another version of herself. And she can't help but wonder _why_ , especially with the strange flicker of resolve she sees in her future self's eyes.

 

The look only lasts a moment before the other Emma's expression shifts, tensing as if on high alert.

 

A split second later it becomes clear why.

 

The sound of a gunshot echoes loudly, as a flock of birds fly every which direction out of a nearby tree, and a deer bolts from out behind some brush.

 

Both Emma and her future self hit the ground on instinct. But Ry remains standing, frozen in fear as the sound of another gunshot cracks through the air.

 

There's a moment where Emma and her future self lock eyes, a moment where they both move to stand, a moment when suddenly everything becomes so very clear, so certain. Everything is going to be just fine.

 

_Emma_ is the one who stands, motioning for her future self to stay down, as she rushes towards the boy who will someday be her son. She knocks him down to the ground just as a third and fourth gunshot pop.

 

The pain is instantaneous.

 

She doesn't need to look down to know she's been shot, to know that she's bleeding.

 

She stands on wobbly knees, hand pressing against her side. The last thing she sees before she disappears are the boys wide, surprised, eyes.

 

She is nearly incoherent as she moves through time - to the manor back when she'd first moved in, then to the hospital the day Hope was born, and then finally to her own time.

 

She collapses on the floor, entire body trembling as Regina darts out of bed and drops to her side.

 

"Stay, stay, stay here," Regina pleads, tears in her eyes, as she tries to staunch the flow of bleeding with her hands.

 

Emma opens her mouth to speak, tries to get words past her trembling lips, tries to tell Regina that it's going to be okay, that she's seen the future, that they were so wrong, that she's going to live, even though right this second she has no clue how.

 

"Sshhh," Regina hums, running a hand soothingly across Emma's brow, while her other hand continues to try and staunch the flow of blood, tendrils of purple magic spilling from her fingertips in an attempt to heal the wound. "It's okay, you're okay, stop trying to talk. Just focus on staying here, darling. Please, you just have to stay."

 

It's as if that last _stay_ is some kind of command. Emma feels the tug in her chest - not the one she feels when she's about to time travel, but something else entirely. Her magic leaves her fingertips of its own volition, white twisting around and around Regina's purple, grounding her here in this time, her own time, like a tether.

 

That isn't all the magic does. Somehow it seems to boost Regina's own efforts and within minutes the wound is closed.

 

"You're alive," Regina breathes out, fingers moving back and forth and back and forth across now smooth skin, seemingly in shock.

 

"Thanks to you," Emma murmurs, exhausted although no longer in any pain.

 

Regina blinks slowly, her fingers leaving the closed wound to brush tenderly against Emma's cheek. "I believe thanks to both of us."

 

"Yeah, I guess so," Emma smiles up at her.

 

"I can't believe this," Regina says, fingers still resting against Emma's cheek, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

 

Emma catches her wrist and brings her hand towards her mouth so that she can press a kiss into the palm of it. "Guess you're stuck with me for a lot longer than you thought." She smirks slowly, eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

 

Regina shakes her head, laughing lightly in a way that sounds like relief. "It'd better be forever."

 

Emma smiles at her once more, a feeling of elation filling her chest at the possibility, happy tears springing into her eyes. "I think it might be."

 

Regina's eyes are wet too and she leans forward to press a kiss to Emmas forehead, and then her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth, and then finally her lips. "I love you," she breathes out.

 

"I love you," Emma echoes.

 

xxxxxx

 

It's two months later when she meets him for the first time - the boy with the dark hair who will be her son.

 

He's stealing bread from the bakery. She chases after him, down an alley.

 

He sighs when he realizes he's cornered. Not afraid or angry, just exhausted, eyeing her with wariness but not saying a word.

 

"Hey there. Ry, right?" She says, shoving her hands in her pockets, trying to appear as unthreatening as possible.

 

He scowls at her, suspicious despite her efforts. "How do you know that?"

 

All she can do is smile and shrug, it's not something she can exactly explain easily. "I'm Emma, the sheriff."

 

"Yeah, I know." He is still scowling and he sounds a little like he thinks she's dumb - _of course_ he knows who she is, there really isn't anyone in Storybrooke who doesn't.

 

"Are you hungry?" She asks, already knowing the answer - she'd known the second she saw the bread in his hand. Her stomach twists, recalling what it had been like to be _him_ \- a child, hungry and fending for herself.

 

He shrugs, biting his lip, not willing to admit it.

 

"It's okay, it will be, I promise." She can't help but try to reassure him, can't help but jump ahead as she pictures the boy kicking a soccer ball in the backyard with Hope.

 

That gets a reaction, his shoulders stiffening, his eyes hardening, as he spits out, "Don't make promises you can't keep."

 

"I wouldn't," Emma answers gently, sincerely. She remembers exactly what it was like to be his age, to be made promise after promise that wouldn't ever be kept. How difficult it had been to trust anyone at all.

 

He looks up at her curiously now, seemingly trying to gauge whether or not to believe her.

 

She could say a lot of things, but she decides to keep it simple. "Let's just start with a hamburger, okay? My treat."

 

That seems to be the right choice because he visibly relaxes. "Yeah, okay," he agrees, kicking at the ground as Emma leads the way out of the alley.

 

xxxxxx

 

He's nine. And he doesn't have a family. The one he'd been given during the curse hadn't wanted him afterwards. It takes all of Emma's restraint not to track them down in anger.

 

He's a hurt, angry, kid without much reason to trust anyone. But under all of that tough exterior, it's so clear how much he _wants_ , how much he craves, a family. Sometimes Emma looks at him and all she can see is herself.

 

She brings him home. It's by no means a seamless transition, but it does feel _right_ , like he was always meant to be theirs.

 

They take slow steps and Emma absolutely glows at each one of them - when she sees him lean against the counter and talk quietly with Regina while she makes dinner, or when he asks Henry for help with his homework, or plays with Hope, or smiles shyly, pleased, when they tuck him in despite protests that he's too old.

 

He's been with them nearly six weeks when it happens. He gets frustrated and tips over a lamp and he runs before they can stop him.

 

Emma knows instantly where he's gone, knows exactly where to find him, knows exactly what today is with such clarity.

 

When it's all over, when her past self is gone backwards in time, she hugs Ry fiercely, dries his tears, and brings him home to a family that is waiting, to _their_ family, to the place they both belong.

 

xxxxxx

 

"I can't believe I'm Bambie's mother," Emma says weeks later, sitting beside Regina on the back porch, watching all three of their children kick a soccer ball around. They've just finished casting the spell that will seal Storybooke - Emma isn't ever going to time travel again, she's never going to miss another family moment again, not a small one like this, or any of the bigger ones. She is exhilarated.

 

"What?" Regina's head tilts in her direction, confused.

 

Emma smirks, "You know, shot by hunters?"

 

Regina makes a face. "Is that supposed to be funny?"

 

Emma laughs at her expression. "A little?"

 

Regina quirks an eyebrow knowingly. "How long exactly have you been waiting to make this joke?"

 

"A while," Emma admits, not feeling sheepish in the least about it.

 

Regina shakes her head but she looks impossibly fond. "You're ridiculous."

 

Emma grins. "But you love me."

 

"But I love you," Regina confirms with a smile of her own.

 

"Good, because I love you too," Emma says softly, smile still on her face. She reaches for Regina's hand, kissing the back of it before settling their now joined hands in her lap.

 

They ease back into comfortable silence, eyes turning back to their children who are laughing happily, soccer ball abandoned, replaced by sticks they are wielding playfully like swords, Henry giving Hope and Ry pointers.

 

An overwhelming sense of contentment washes over Emma.

 

Everything really did turn out better than she ever could have imagined.

 

**End Part II**


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